


126 Horas

by michaelfalls



Series: The Dalís [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: ACAB, Bank Robbery, Guns, Heist, Inspired by: La Casa de Papel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michaelfalls/pseuds/michaelfalls
Summary: Dean Winchester has been planning this heist for half his life and it is, at its core, simple: break into the Bank of America, confuse the police long enough for him to print his own money and steal their gold, and get away with it with no casualties. No heist this big can be done alone, and he employs the help of other skilled individuals to help him. But you can't predict everything ahead of time, no matter how hard you try; not the plan falling apart and certainly not falling in love.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dorothy Baum/Charlie Bradbury, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Series: The Dalís [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1876024
Comments: 20
Kudos: 65





	1. DAY ONE

**Author's Note:**

> The bank, while there is one with the name in real life, will be fictitious. Nothing like the actual Bank of America.  
> This story is based on La Casa de Papel | Money Heist, airing on Netflix. I am combining both heists (because honestly, I'm not smart enough to make my own bank robbery plan). In the show’s true fashion, the robbers will be using city names as well. They'll be listed below so you know who is who.  
> Content warnings will be stated at the start of each chapter. Heed the tags.
> 
> Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1clAIFVJZ73LUzWecKKGUM?si=8mc2SFhGStiUhkw3-mAgHw

**THE ROBBERS**

**Dean Winchester AKA Kansas**  
The mastermind and the first-in-command in the bank, street fighter.

 **Castiel Novak AKA Angeles**  
Second-in-command in the bank, known jewel thief.

 **Bela Talbot AKA London**  
Quality control manager and expert con-woman and counterfeiter.

 **Meg Masters AKA Vegas**  
Skilled robber and time bomb waiting to go off.

 **Crowley MacLeod AKA Berlin**  
Expert robber wanted in the UK.

 **Benny Lafitte AKA Dallas**  
Industrial equipment specialist and former miner turned robber.

 **Charlie Bradbury AKA Salem**  
IT wizard, master of hacking through security and cyber attacks.

 **Balthazar Freely AKA Rome**  
Expert conman and a broker in the black market.

 **Anael Jo AKA Paris**  
Con-woman who will be keeping hostages in check.

 **Adam Milligan AKA Windom**  
Dean's half-brother, managing communications and loose ends.

_Accidents... The greatest mystery of life.  
_ **Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa**

**Friday, 9:25 AM  
0 hours  
0 kg  
$0**

When you have spent half your life planning a heist this big, it's surprising when you take a step back and realise how simple it really is.

Adrenaline buzzes dimly under Dean's skin, a pleasant hum deep in his chest as he runs a hand down the red coveralls. He shifts slightly from Dallas's poor driving skills when he makes a sharp left. Dean would have liked to drive the van himself, but he'd rather stay in the back with the others to make sure nobody was going to back out. Sure, that also means that Dallas and Salem in the front of the van could back out without his knowledge, but he trusted them enough to not stab him in the back. That's why they're the ones driving.

He sits next to Angeles who has his Dalí mask on, watching silently as Rome and Berlin debate on why they're using Dalí masks. Paris traces the details of her mask with a manicured nail painted blood red, lips twisting in disapproval before she puts it down to tuck her wild red hair under the hood of her coveralls. It may be selfish, because Angeles tends to be very quiet when a lot of people are talking, but Dean wishes that Angeles spoke up more. His voice is gravelly but is surprisingly not like nails on a chalkboard. It's comforting in a way but it might be because he's heard it every day for the past year.

"We could have invested a little bit more in these masks," Paris says disdainfully and London points to her in agreement. "If I knew that we were going to wear this for almost two weeks, I would have offered to buy us nicer ones. I know someone who makes these excellent masks..."

"All of us know someone who can make an excellent mask," Angeles cuts over, slowly pulling his mask off of his face to fix Paris with his stone-like stare. "These are just fine. Besides, you won't even be wearing these for long. You'll be with the hostages."

Angeles is one of Dean's favourites out of the robbers here. He probably shouldn't have favourites, but he's only human. Salem and Dallas at the front, he loves them like family. Salem is a couple of years younger than him but so, so smart. She actually reminds him of his brother Sam.

He hasn't spoken to Sam since he turned 19 and ran off after Bobby died. Dean turned 30 last month. He has no idea what Sam is doing with his life right now or if he's even still alive. He just knows that it was the right decision to leave him in the care of Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo who lived down the street from them. He didn't need to drag Sam into this heist and ruin him. Besides, Ellen can actually afford to raise Sam. Dean could barely even pay for both their lunches.

Dean shakes the thoughts out of his head when Dallas calls out to him from the front, "Hey, Kansas. Why the hell did you pick the painter?"

"Would you have liked it if I got us Disney masks from a craft shop, Mickey Mouse?" Dean snaps back, making Dallas, Rome, and Berlin laugh and insist that they're merely poking fun. Dean is a little bit riled up; While this is all exciting, it's also his first time doing a heist this big. Even with help, it's still a risk and the nerves are eating him alive. No matter how he spent half his life preparing for this heist, he knows no man can truly prepare for everything.

That's what Windom is for -- Adam Milligan. Dean found his half-brother in Windom, Minnesota when Adam called and asked for John Winchester. Dean went to see him and coincidentally enough, Adam had dabbled a little bit in thievery to help get expensive medication for his sick mother. Dean invited him to join his heist, claiming that if they pulled it off, he would never have to steal again. Adam agreed instantly and is now serving as his outside man, keeping as close an eye he can on the police's investigation and tying up any and all loose ends that they may have left on the outside. Dean would do it himself but he has to keep control in the bank.

They pull up outside a small abandoned warehouse where Dean had stored weaponry and explosives. They had no intention of using them to harm anyone, simply just to ensure that the police cooperated. In actuality, the hostages will be under their protection while they hijacked the bank.

"Salem, start hacking," Dean orders. Salem nods, eyes bright with excitement for her first official hacking assignment on the heist, and pulls her laptop out of her bag to begin. Dallas gets out of the van and walks over to the road to set up barricades so that the truck will get detoured to where they are. The truck is one that goes to the bank once a week, carrying banknote paper for printing. They don't need or want the blank rolls, but they need the cover to get into the bank with all their artillery. Plus, the truck is guarded by cop cars and if they get through to them, going in will be no problem at all.

"Showtime, assholes," Dean says, covering his face with his mask and pulling the hood up over his head. Angeles already has his on and Rome, Paris, and Berlin follow suit. When Dallas comes back, they wait for the truck and cop cars to come their way while Salem works on jamming radio communication between the cop cars and the bank. By the time the truck is on their road, they run up to them with rifles and guns.

"Get the hell out of there," Dallas shouts at the truck drivers and they get out, shaking in fear. Dallas and Berlin move the truck drivers to the back as Paris, Rome, and Angeles get the cop cars emptied of their passengers. While Paris and Rome hold the cops at gunpoint, Angeles opens the back doors of the truck and Dean grins at the amount of space at the back. Angeles, Dallas and Dean start loading the weaponry, real and fake ones, ammunition and explosives onto the truck and Berlin empties out the giant canisters of the blank banknote paper, kicking them to the back of the truck.

Once done, Dean walks over to the cops, warning, "When they ask you if everything's alright later at the gate, you'll answer calmly like you always have. Got it?" At the fearful nodding, Dean is satisfied and shoves extra red coveralls to them. "Good. Get changed." He points out two cops and orders, "You'll be giving your uniforms to us."

While Angeles and Dean change into the police uniforms, Angeles asks, "Are you sure this will work?"

"Kinda late to worry, right?" Dean replies, zipping up the police jacket. He can't see Angeles's face but he's known him long enough to know that he's not all that jazzed about his lacklustre response.

"What if they don't send their superior and we just get an inspector?" Angeles follows up, closing up his own police jacket as Dallas and Berlin herd truck drivers, now in the same red coveralls as them, into the back of the truck with the weaponry.

"We'll make do. Plus, we've got Windom out here to help us if shit hits the fan," Dean shrugs. "Trust me, Angeles."

Angeles's shoulders sag a little bit. "I do trust you, that's why I'm unsure."

"That makes no sense," Dean replies, walking off to the side of the road when he hears the roar of a sports car coming their way. It slows to a stop next to them and the cop car, and Vegas and London grin at him through their disguises. Vegas's dark and wavy hair is covered by a blonde wig that Rome thinks she bought for cheap from Party City and London's long brown hair is under a short black bob. He says to them, "Everything is handled here. Salem has signals jammed and we're about to head to the bank. You go ahead and make sure the kid is there. We need him."

"Got it, boss," Vegas says airily and she and London laugh as they drive off ahead of them to the bank.

Angeles questions, "How do you know they won't storm the bank when the president's son is in there with us?"

"I already told you, I've got it all sorted," Dean assures. "He's our insurance. As long as we have guns in there, they're not gonna come in." While Angeles may ask questions, Dean knows it's only because he's meticulous, and that's a good trait in a robber. He didn't successfully steal hundreds of diamonds with just sheer luck.

Angeles relents and sticks a gun in front of two of the cops, ordering them to get back into the cop car. Dean takes the remaining two in the cop car at the front of the truck and pulls out his own gun at the cop in the driver's seat, "Drive."

**12 months ago**

"Good morning, welcome to class," Dean opens and the dark-haired woman snorted, throwing a paper ball at the burly man in the hat. All the different criminals are seated at tables not unlike those in a classroom. The first two is a British woman who does perfect counterfeiting and Adam Milligan. The second row has both of the redhead women -- one is an IT expert and another is a professional con-woman. The third row has a blonde British man who dabbles in the black market as a broker of sorts and another who is known for being an infamously good jewel thief. The fourth row: one of the world's best miners, the dark-haired skilled robber who threw the paper, and the United Kingdom's most wanted robber.

She asks haughtily, "Why do we even have class? Just hand us the plans and we'll be ready by tomorrow."

"Because art takes time," the jewel thief says. He's dark-haired as well, ebony a sharp contrast to his vibrant blue eyes. Dean had helped him get away from the police after his last robbery -- twenty diamonds from a jeweller -- and approached him with the plan. He'd been hesitant to agree until Dean gave him a rough outline of the plan, that they would hijack the bank, use the hostages as leverage, and gain public trust by not stealing their money but making their own. It seemed secure, doable and stable, and the jewel thief liked that. He agreed afterwards and is here, taking his class for their heist in a year's time.

She scoffs, sliding down in her seat slightly and spreading her legs under the table like a juvenile teenager. "Okay, but I want to know who's who."

Dean nods, saying, "To make sure we keep some level of a professional relationship, we'll avoid any personal details as much as possible. That includes our names. We'll name ourselves after something collective; planets, one-word movie titles, superheroes, writers, cities..."

"Let's do planets," UK's most wanted says, his voice like whiskey and dark smoke. "I'll be Neptune and this guy --" He kicks the back of the broker's chair. "-- can be Uranus."

"How about I shove something up _Uranus_ , would you like that?" the broker responds, turning in his chair to shoot a dirty look at him. He only grins back, winking.

"Enough," Dean mutters. "City names. Can we settle on that?"

"I'll be London," the counterfeiter says, raising a finger in the air. The longer-haired redhead takes Paris, then the one who suggested he be Neptune takes Berlin. The miner dubs himself as Dallas, Adam takes Windom, his hometown, and the IT girl takes Salem. The thief in the back takes Las Vegas. The broker takes Rome.

Dean decides, "I'll be Kansas."

Paris smiles, patronising, "Kansas is a state."

The jewel thief mumbles, "Kansas is a city in Missouri." Dean grins, concluding that he likes him, then raises his eyebrows at him expectantly. The thief adds, "I'll be Los Angeles."

Vegas and London get out of the sports car after parking it outside the Bank of America. It looks grander up close and neither woman can deny the buzz that the sight brings them. Vegas runs a hand over her coat, fingers faintly tracing the outline of her gun. Right then, a school bus pulls up outside and a bunch of teenagers disembark one by one until finally, the president's son tumbles out -- Jack Kline.

London turns on her earpiece and contacts Kansas, saying once the line picks up, "The boy is here."

"Good. Get ready, we'll be there soon. Salem will have the alarms down in ten minutes so Jack Kline's class can enter. Go in in ten," Kansas orders. With a hum of acknowledgement, London hangs up and turns to Vegas, holding up ten fingers. When ten minutes pass, Vegas and London start heading towards the bank's entrance, praying to God that Salem has the alarms turned off by now.

In the truck, they slow to a stop at the security gate of the bank. Dean looks out the other window so the bank's security guard can barely see his face and he coughs a little obnoxiously in way of warning. The security guard bends down to look through the car window and asks, "Everything good?"

"Yeah, fine," the cop answers. He can't be any older than 25, no wonder he's scared shitless.

The guard gives Dean a suspicious stare and asks, "Where's Barnes?"

"Couldn't make it today," the cop replies as easily as he can manage to sound, combing through his hair to hide the way his hand is shaking. Finally, the guard decides that it's fine to let them pass and the boom barrier rises. Dean is just itching to get into the bank and find the governor. He'd visited the bank way before he even recruited the other robbers for his heist under the guise of a potential investor so he could case the governor's security team. There's only one person who could be of any real threat, Abaddon Knight. Hopefully, they can get her out of the way.

The cop cars and truck roll into the basement of the bank where most of the industrial equipment and storage was. It's huge, lined with crates and machinery. It's not where they print the money or where they have the gold bars stored, but it's magnificent nonetheless because it means they're in the Bank of America.

Once the car stops, Dean gets out of the car and turns the safety off on his gun, pointing it at the employees who start screaming, raising their arms. "Hands up! Come on!" He hears a door slam shut and Angeles ordering the employees to do the same and Dallas, Paris, Rome, and Berlin come out of the canisters, pointing their rifles at them as well. When he's sure that nobody will try to be a hero, he demands, "Someone, tell me if the governor is home."

"He is, he is. He's here," an employee cowers, hands shaking as he tucks them behind his head.

"Angeles and Dallas, with me," Dean commands. "The rest of you, get them to the main hall." As they start to move the now-hostages, Dean activates his earpiece and says, "Hello? Vegas, London?"

"Here," London's crisp voice comes through. "About to enter the bank."

"Alarms have been down, go in now," Salem says. Dean, Dallas, and Angeles get a move on to the governor's office after Dean and Angeles switch out their guns for rifles.

Dean warns as they approach his office, "Remember what we talked about with Abaddon. Be careful." Both of them nod behind him, raising their rifles. With a deep breath, Dean kicks the doorknob and the door swings open. The three of them rush into the room and Dean shouts, "Hands up! Back off!"

The security team instantly pulls out their own guns and the governor, Frank Devereaux, raises his hands. "Don't shoot."

He wasn't intending to shoot anyone, but if they believed it, at least they'd cooperate. Abaddon suddenly lunges out, grabbing Angeles and holding a gun to his head. Angeles releases his rifle, letting it fall to his chest as its held to him by a strap over his shoulder. Abaddon says, bright red lipstick mocking, "Touch the governor and I kill your friend."

Dean hesitates, not expecting Abaddon herself to grab Angeles, but then Frank jumps in to say, "Abaddon, let him go. I don't want any casualties." Her eyes widen and she looks ready to argue but Frank insists, "I don't want you to do anything! If we cooperate, they won't hurt anyone. I am not having anyone get shot in my bank. I'll go with you." The last part is directed to Dean and he internally heaves a sigh of relief that he won't have to shoot at Abaddon. What the hell is she even doing here anyway? Adam was supposed to take care of it.

Frank peacefully goes with Dean and Abaddon reluctantly withdraws, letting herself and the rest of the security team go with Dallas and Angeles. Just then, Vegas's voice comes through the earpiece, saying amidst the noise in the background, "I can't find the kid."

"Search the building. Take Salem, Rome, and London and search. Dallas and Berlin, you handle the employees, security and governor. Tie up security. Paris, get changed and go with the hostages," Dean rattles off. They all voice their affirmations and Dean pushes one of the skinnier guards with his rifle butt, urging him forward.

They only get to the lobby when Abaddon suddenly reaches for Angeles again, pulling him towards her by his sleeve and punching him. The mask slides off his face partially and he can only get one hand between them before Abaddon swings at him once more. Dean grits his teeth and tries to pull Abaddon off of Angeles but she breaks free of his grip, slickly snatching the gun from Dean's holster and firing it at Angeles.

Dean's heart skips a beat then and everything seemed to go in slow motion, the way the bullet cuts through the air. Thankfully, it merely hits the vase next to Angeles because she hadn't had the chance to aim accurately, but the glass rains down on Angeles when it shatters. Angeles yells in pain when glass cuts him where the coveralls and mask aren't covering him, and Dean takes the butt of his rifle and slams it to the side of Abaddon's head with as much force as he can use.

She's ready to whack Dean for it until Dallas tackles her to the ground, holding Abaddon in a chokehold until she passes out. The security team watch, still and eyes wide, and Dallas raises his rifle to them, urging them to keep moving. Dean waves to him to tell him to take them to the main hall and he runs over to Angeles.

"Angeles, hey," Dean whispers, raising his mask so he can see better. "Are you okay?"

"I could be worse," Angeles mutters, hand tentatively coming up to touch his face. He hisses when he feels a piece of glass that has embedded itself into his cheek. "How bad is it?"

"Just the one piece in your cheek and one in your hand. Easy work, thank God," Dean assures. "I'll patch you up in the lobby. Or if it really hurts, I'll take them out right now, but I don't have the med kit with me."

"Found the kid," Rome says through the earpiece.

Angeles shakes his head, sitting up, "I'll wait until you have the medical kit since they found Jack. Get the glass out after we make them think we're fucked." Dean nods and slides a hand under Angeles's arms to help him up but releases him once he's sure he's fine on his own. Granted, two pieces of glass isn't a fatal injury, but Dean cared about his team, even if he didn't know their real names. Dean and Angeles make their way to the main hall where all the hostages are now assembled, blindfolds put over their eyes. Berlin stands next to a brunet teenage boy and Dean smiles -- that's Jack Kline. They all push their masks up into their hair so their faces are now revealed. Paris is now in regular clothing, assimilated into the crowd. She will keep an eye to make sure none of them tries to be a hero.

"Good afternoon," Dean says. "I'm sorry about all this. Not a good way to end a week, right? But unfortunately, you will be our hostages for the next ten to twelve days. We'll try to keep it short." Every hostage has a blindfold over them as they huddle in fear. Angeles and Vegas go around to collect phones in a bag. He continues, "Don't worry. We'll be protecting you while you are here. You will get three meals a day and water."

Dallas waves to Dean to indicate that he will be going down to the vaults to begin work on the vaults -- one vault to get the gold out and another one for their escape route. Dallas’s coworkers, fellow industrial forger experts, will come in through the off security system to assist him with the gold. Dean lets him go and Berlin and Rome leave to set up wiring for their analogue communication system. They can't use their earpieces as the police will just jump on their signal and they're toast. It settles Dean a little bit to know that in an hour or so, he will have a direct line to Adam. Salem and London go to take down security cameras from the walls and put in their own cameras, hooked up to the computers that Dean has had Salem set up for Adam.

Angeles holds the bag open in front of one of the tied-up security team and orders Vegas, "Take their phones, put them in." Vegas retrieves their phones, being a little more careful around Abaddon despite her being handcuffed to a pole.

Abaddon says warningly, glaring at Angeles, "You better pray I don't get out of these bonds. I will kill you if I do."

"Wow, she's _scary_ , I'm so scared," Vegas grins, dropping the phones into the bag in Angeles's hands. "Don't be a tease."

"After I kill him, you're next," Abaddon threatens. Angeles stares at her emotionlessly before walking back to Dean's side while Vegas just narrows her eyes at Abaddon.

"All phones have been collected and switched off," Angeles informs him.

Dean nods, talking into his earpiece, "Everyone ready?"

"Cameras set up," Vegas says just as Dallas returns, giving him a thumbs up. Berlin tells him that they're on their way back to the main hall and London echoes it.

Dean nods again and says, "Salem, be ready. Put us through with Windom and sound the alarms."

When Dean first came to him with the proposition to rob the Bank of America, Adam thought his half-brother was absolutely insane. Granted, Adam himself stole every once in a while to help his mother, but never to this magnitude. But Dean convinced him -- the government and bank didn't need gold bars, they're absolutely useless in day-to-day life, and they weren't stealing from anyone, simply printing their own notes. He's hoping for at least two billion by the time their twelve-day hijack of the bank is up. It sounds foolproof enough once Dean ran through the plan with him in its entirety, so Adam tells his mother that he will be home in a week and goes off with Dean.

Now, he's set up in a dark warehouse Dean had rented out as his hideout. Salem has connected their own cameras to the computers she set up for him, so he will serve as their eye in the sky during their operation. He is connected to Dean and his team through an earpiece so that even if he has to leave the hideout, he will not be unreachable. There's a separate phone as well, in case the earpiece becomes unusable.

The screens suddenly burst to life, displaying different parts of the bank all in front of him. He whispers, looking over the footage, "Holy shit, they did it."

Dean's voice crackles through the earpiece, saying, "Salem's turning the alarms back on in one minute. You got me?"

"I got you," Adam assures. When it hits one minute and he hears the alarms go off from Dean's end of the earpiece, he tells him, "You have three minutes exactly."

Dean, Angeles, Salem, Vegas, and Berlin stand in front of the bank's entrance, unmoving. Dean can hear confusion coming from the hostages, but it's all noise to him. They're mostly whispering among themselves, wondering why they're just standing around and why the alarm suddenly went off. He pulls the mask back over his face and Adam says, "Two minutes left."

"You ready?" Dean asks.

"Never been more amped up, Kansas," Vegas says in her typical drawl.

Berlin mutters, picking up the bag of fake notes, "It's just running out and then back in. What is there to be ready for?"

"Anything can happen," Salem says. A little timidly, Dean notices, but there isn't any time to switch her out for someone more suitable for their first "face-off" with the police as Adam lets them know that there's one minute left before the cops arrive.

"Be careful. Be quick. Out and in," Dean says instead, readying his rifle. He had no intention to open fire because he didn't think the cops would do it. Just out and in. The moment Adam says 'now', the doors open and they run out.

Dean thought that he covered all bases. He didn't know that the cops would open fire as soon as they stepped out. They start firing real bullets and while most of them miss, one grazes Salem past her mask and she collapses to the floor instantly, bleeding from her cheek. 

"Salem!" Dean calls out, running over. He bends down to shield her and Berlin fires at the cops to cover them. Dean raises his rifle and starts shooting, blindsided by Salem getting shot and how they unpredictably opened fire on them. Maybe he should have listened to Angeles when he was concerned about the cops being more violent with them but he was sure they were still unaware that Jack Kline was in the building.

Even with his aimless firing, Dean nicks the two cops and they fall back. Berlin helps him bring Salem back into the bank as Angeles and Vegas shoot into the air to make sure the cops don't try firing again. Rome closes the doors behind them and Dean takes Salem's mask off, cupping her face and looking her over. Blood trickles from her cheek and she's a little out of it, but fine. He orders Dallas, Vegas, Paris, and Berlin to stay with the hostages and brings Salem up to the governor's office, their new main headquarters.

"Kansas, is she okay?" Adam asks, anxious. "What the hell happened?"

"She's good, just needs a little patching up. They opened fire, man," Dean answers. Angeles pushes the office door open with his uninjured hand and Dean nods in silent thanks, setting Salem down on the couch as London retrieves the medical kit in the bathroom. London sets the box down on the desk and takes out the disinfectant wipes and bandages, passing some to Dean. Angeles looks out of the window to observe the police and Dean moves over to tend to the glass in his skin. London takes care of Salem's injury.

London snaps, shooting Dean a sharp glance while wiping off blood from Salem's cheek, "What the fuck were you thinking? Shooting at the cops?"

"You shot at the cops?" Adam cuts in, frantic. Dean clicks his tongue in annoyance, taking the earpiece off with a spare hand and putting it down on the table. He carefully pulls the glass from Angeles's palm and quickly cleans it up to bandage it.

"Look, they shot at us before we did. I'm sorry I didn't see that coming. And Berlin started shooting at them first," Dean replies angrily. "London, when you're done with Salem, go collect the earpieces from the rest, we need to dump them now."

Though irritated with him, London obeys. She waves her, Dean, and Angeles's earpieces at the camera to let Adam know that they're getting rid of them now and dumps them into the fish tank, leaving to get the earpieces from the other robbers to dispose of as well.

"Salem, you okay?" Dean asks, putting a hand on Angeles's unaffected cheek to take out the glass from his face.

"Yeah, just a graze," Salem affirms, touching the bandage. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Angeles says, still looking out of the window while Dean plasters a bandage on his face. He narrows his eyes and adds, "They're beginning to set up camp. I'm sure they will get word of Jack's presence here soon." Dean looks out of the window and nods, seeing what Angeles is. Salem kneels on the couch to look as well.

"That means a negotiator is going to come. Hopefully Interior comes," Dean says, standing once he's sure Salem will be fine. He walks over to the governor's desk and picks up the phone, connecting him to Adam. "Windom, they're setting up camp."

"Then it's time for the coveralls," Adam reads off Dean's plan.

**Friday, 6:15 PM  
8 hours  
0 kg  
$0  
**

A hostage situation is the last thing Sam Winchester thought he would be handling on Friday evening but here he is, entering the tent that the police have set up outside the Bank of America. Jody Mills, the deputy inspector, walks up to him and tells him, "The robbers tried to escape earlier but one of them got shot and they ran back in. We're not sure about the extent of their injuries, but two cops got shot too. They're fine, the shots didn't injure them heavily. There are about sixty-seven confirmed hostages."

Sam sighs and pulls his jacket tighter around himself in the evening chill. "Please tell me you have some good news."

"We know the identities of two of the hostages," Jody says slowly like she's gauging if Sam is ready to hear it or not. "The governor of the bank, Frank Devereaux, and Jack Kline."

"The fucking _president's son_?" Sam almost combusts right there and then. Jody looks around with wide eyes as some cops around them stare at him with raised eyebrows. " _That_ Jack Kline?"

" _That_ Jack Kline," Jody confirms. "We don't know if he or the governor have been harmed. No proof of life has been given."

"I thought I could have a break today," Sam laments, going into the tent. He almost rolls his eyes when he sees that Colonel Zachariah Adler is there already -- while he does his job well, he's completely insufferable. He asks, "Have you tried getting into the bank's security?"

Zachariah answers, annoyed, "All the cameras have been taken down, there's no camera signal or radio signal coming from them. We're blind out here."

"What the hell do you mean no signals? There's gotta be something," Sam frowns, leaning over the shoulder of a tech expert to read the screen. Sure enough, there's no signal at all. No methods of communication, at least none using radio frequencies, no mobile phones on, no camera footage. Zachariah is right, they're blind and deaf in the tent. They have no way of knowing what's going on inside.

He turns back to Jody and asks, "You said they tried to escape but you guys opened fire so they retreated back in?"

"That's right," Jody nods once.

"Then that means they're boxed in. They have no idea what to do, we have the upper hand right now," Sam says to himself, but he's unsure if he knows this or is trying to convince himself.

One of the tech experts waves to him, saying, "There's a call being connected."

"Put it through," Sam says, putting on the headset.

When the line connects, he hears a distorted voice greet, " _Good evening._ "

Sam pauses and looks over to the tech experts who begin trying to clean up the voice. He says, buying time, "Your voice sounds strange. Are you okay?"

There's a heavily silent beat that passes before he speaks up again, " _Just fine. I have this shitty voice modulator but you get why I have to use it._ " The tech experts signal to say they can't clear the voice modulation and Sam shakes his head in disappointment. The man continues, " _I wanted to know if the shot cops are okay._ "

"Light injuries. They're okay," Sam replies. "And you?"

" _No casualties in us and the hostages._ "

"Good, that's good," Sam replies, leaning in his chair. At least the hostages are alright. "Can you give me a name? It's weird talking to a nameless voice."

" _Kansas_."

Sam writes it down -- it's likely a fake name, but it's better than nothing. He asks, "Are you the one who took down the bank's security?"

" _That was someone else. Can I have your name as well?_ "

"Inspector Sam Winchester," Sam replies. There's a pause again but it goes by too quickly for Sam to put any meaning behind it.

" _Inspector Sam Winchester_ ," Kansas echoes meaningfully. " _I thought they'd send someone higher up._ "

"He's busy running the country so you'll have to settle for little old me," Sam says.

Kansas finally says, " _Everyone is fine and will remain like that. We're taking care of the hostages. We'll ask for supplies tomorrow._ " Before Sam can ask anything else, the line drops.

Sam straightens up and pushes his hair behind his ears, walking back out of the tent to look at the bank. If he didn't know what had transpired, he would never have guessed that there was a hostage situation. It looked perfectly peaceful from the outside, spare bulletholes in pillars at the entrance.

How the hell did the robbers get through security with artillery? They must have hijacked the metal detectors, so at least now they know that there is an IT expert on the team. Something is better than nothing.

When he sees armoured cars pulling up outside, his eyes widen and he storms back into the tent, grabbing Zachariah. "Why is SWAT here?"

"Orders from above, it's out of my control," Zachariah responds, raising his hands in surrender. Sam drags him out of the tent to talk in private and once they stop walking, Zachariah adds, "The president's son is in there. If we don't storm the bank and get him out by tonight, tomorrow the whole world will know. They'll think that America can't even handle a bank holdup. Interior wants us to go in by force and get Jack Kline and the governor to safety. And they might not even be aware that Jack is in there. Every moment he's in there, he risks being discovered by them and becoming their target."

"Don't you think that if they wanted to harm them, they would have by now?" Sam insists. "And what if they're not injured yet? What if this storm ruins any chance we have at negotiation? That's what you called me here to do, right?"

"If this storm goes right, we won't need to negotiate at all. We could have the bank back by tomorrow morning," Zachariah retorts, gaining confidence as he straightens his back to look a little less short in comparison to Sam. "I'm doing this whether you want it to happen or not."

Sam grumbles under his breath as Zachariah goes back into the tent to give the green light and he watches anxiously as the SWAT team starts moving towards different openings of the bank.

The last thing Dean had expected today was hearing his little brother's voice come over the phone. It's deeper than when he was a kid, obviously, but it's him. Dean can tell his brother's voice anywhere. He freezes up for a second but wipes his surprise off of his face as quickly as he can before Jack Kline can notice.

He had singled out some hostages at random and handed them fake rifles, urging them to follow Angeles. Angeles, Berlin, Rome, London, and Vegas will go to the loading zone where Dallas and Berlin had set up artillery earlier. Dallas, Salem, and Paris will stay in the main hall to watch the hostages. Angeles settles in front of a browning ground machine gun, ready, and the other robbers disperse themselves among the hostages, who are all confused as to what they're trying to accomplish.

The first thing the SWAT team will do is to case the building and see how their set up is like. They can't do that very well from outside, which means they will only rely on a small camera and instructions from the tent on how to proceed. Dean has all the hostages dressed in the same red coveralls as him and his team and distributed Dali masks as well. Now, they are indistinguishable from the robbers, all one and the same.

Dean is in the governor's office with Jack Kline. He looks painfully innocent and Dean actually feels bad for holding him hostage, but he (and the governor) is vital to ensuring that they can keep the bank for as long as they need. He turns on Jack's phone and holds it up, putting it on speaker, and holds up a piece of paper with a script for Jack to read.

The line is picked up very quickly, expectedly, and Jack starts saying shakily, "My name is Jack Kline, I am the son of President Rooney. I'm a hostage in the Bank of America..." There is a lot of noise from the tent, and he's sure they're scrambling to either drop the call before someone else picks up the signal and makes a headline out of it or to figure out what to do before the SWAT team breaks in. Jack continues reading, "Every hostage is fine. They've given us food and water, and there are no casualties. The governor is okay."

By now, the SWAT team has pushed a periscope camera through a hole they have drilled in the wall of the landing zone to scope the area. They end up being greeted by the sight of just over ten people, all dressed in red coveralls and Dali masks, pointing guns at the camera.

In the tent, Sam groans loudly when he sees the gun Angeles has, "They have a browning machine gun. Tell them to fall back."

"No, we have the chance to take them down now!" Zachariah replies.

Before Sam can try to argue, Jack says, "They have us all dressed like them and have given us the same masks and guns. There's no way to tell who's who. Please don't come in." Dean nods, trying to school his face into something somewhat placating, as much as is possible for the situation anyway.

"Tell them to fall back _now_!" Sam shouts, horrified.

Zachariah grits his teeth but relents, "Fall back. Don't shoot." He slams a hand on the table and walks out of the tent, leaving Sam to watch helplessly as the call drops, and Jack's phone loses signal.

Rome and Salem hand out sleeping bags to the hostages and ensure they have enough water to last the night while Angeles follows Dean up to the office. Their shared shift to watch the hostages isn't for another two hours, after Rome and Salem, so they can rest for a while. Dallas and Berlin go to handle the gold vault with Dallas's men who had arrived before the alarms were enabled. Rome and London have taken some hostages of London's selection to go to the machinery to begin production of banknotes. Vegas is keeping an eye on the security, especially Abaddon. For now, everything is in place.

He sighs and leans into the chair as Angeles sits across from him, watching him with a careful eye.

Finally, Angeles asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Dean says automatically.

"I have known you for a whole year. I know you well enough by now. Something's wrong. What?" Angeles presses. Dean is about to say that it won't affect him or the heist and Angeles sees it coming, adding, "Don't say that it won't deter the plan. You could be lying."

Dean resists rolling his eyes but relents, saying, "My brother's in the tent."

Angeles frowns, his eyebrows carving thoughtful lines into his forehead. "Your brother is a cop?"

"The inspector, he's gonna negotiate with us," Dean mumbles, toying with the edge of his red sleeves. "Doesn't matter. He's there, I heard his voice when I called them earlier."

Angeles suggests, "It may not be him. A lot of people have similar voices and speech patterns."

Dean presses his lips into a thin line and says, "He told me his last name. It was my last name."

Angeles doesn't respond to that and just looks out the window at the tent. The police bumble about in the night, probably trying to figure out how to handle Jack and Frank Devereaux being hostages of armed robbers. Tomorrow will be a new day, and hopefully, there'll be better luck. For now, he's glad that things have vaguely fallen in to plan. Now, if only the next six days will follow suit.

But with someone as sharp as Sam on the police's side, Dean knows he has to be more careful to not get caught.


	2. DAY TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning:  
> Drunken state  
> Injury by gun

**Saturday, 5:10 AM  
19 hours  
0 kg  
$80 million  
**

Sam grumbles into his coffee, running a hand through his hair. He realises, displeased, that his fingers are shaking against his cup and that that detail comes with the belated thought that he has not slept for the past twenty-four hours. He can't shake the way Kansas paused for a few seconds too long after he said his name. Did he know Kansas? Or was it just a coincidence? It could be that the line was lagging. It's analogue, they couldn't trace where the phone call was coming from.

He sips his coffee, letting the warmth sit in his mouth as he sinks into the comfort of the drink, closing his eyes and dragging out a long breath. It can only be the calm before the storm with a cup of coffee he'd been so eager to receive.

Sam runs the facts over in his mind, fingers tapping rhythmically on the side of his cup:

  * Kansas is likely the leader and its unknown if he's in the bank or outside.
  * They have been in there for one day and 5 hours now.
  * They have an IT expert on the team, alias currently unknown.
  * They are dressed in red coveralls and Dalí masks, but so are all the hostages.
  * Bank of America's Governor Devereaux and President Rooney's son Jack Kline are hostages.
  * One of the robbers is currently hurt but no hostages have been injured.
  * There are about sixty-seven hostages. Eleven of them are Jack Kline and his classmates, one will be his teacher. One will be the governor. Five will be his security team which includes Abaddon Knight. The remaining forty-nine will be employees and visitors. An unknown number of robbers.
  * Kansas will be calling again sometime today to request supplies.



_Kansas will be calling again sometime today._ Sam sighs and pulls out his phone, intending to call Jess. She had wanted to make him his favourite dinner tonight but it'll have to be postponed. He sighs again, annoyed when he realises that his battery is flat.

A tap on his shoulder pulls Sam out of his funk and he blinks absently at the face that looks back at him. He's a blonde man with blue eyes and he looked familiar yet not. He frowns, "Can I help you?"

"You can use my phone if you need to," the man offers, eyes dropping to Sam's black screen. "Sorry, I was behind you and I saw that you were out of battery. The big red battery's pretty hard to miss."

"Yeah, thanks," Sam replies, wary, though he takes the phone. He dials Jess's number and waits until she picks up while the man looks away to give him privacy. "Hello, Jess? It's Sam."

"Sam, hey!" Jessica replies. He can hear the TV, some reality show playing in the background. "I was about to get started on dinner."

Sam stops her, regret filling his voice, "I'm sorry, babe. I can't make it home tonight. There are some robbers holding up the Bank of America, I think I'm gonna be stuck on-site for a long time. Raincheck?"

"Okay, raincheck. How does Sunday sound?"

"I'll let you know if things change, but Sunday sounds perfect," Sam smiles. Jess is such a force of positivity. It's hard to not feel happy just hearing her voice. "Don't wait up for me. Love you."

"Love you too," Jess says before hanging up.

Sam passes the phone back and says thanks to the man, who asks, "You're investigating the robbery?"

Sam stares at him and decides that it's not exactly sensitive information to admit that he's running point on this, so he nods, "Yeah. They're some sons of bitches."

The man blinks and affirms, "So when you say Sam, you're Inspector Sam Winchester?"

Sam adjusts in his seat and turns to face the man, saying, "Yeah. Do I know you, man?"

The man perks up and holds his hand out for Sam to shake, explaining, "My name is Adam Milligan. I came from Minnesota. I saw the Bank of America robbery on the news and when they said Inspector Sam Winchester was on the case, I thought I would come to look for you."

Sam pauses and asks, "Why?"

"Because John Winchester is my father," Adam clarifies. "I'm your half-brother, kinda."

"Dad had another son?" Sam spluttered, almost dropping his cup of coffee. He thought he was it, other than Dean. But he thought he was the only Winchester son left. The inspector part of his mind kicks in and he asks for proof. Adam produces a photograph from his jacket and passes it to Sam, sliding into the empty seat next to him while Sam looks it over. It's a photo of John, many years younger and looking way less ragged, carrying a young boy on his shoulders. The boy has Adam's features, obviously Adam as a kid. He really is John's kid.

As Sam reels from the revelation, Adam shrugs, saying, "He came to Minnesota, met my mom, then I came along... How is he, I haven't seen him in a while?"

"Honestly, he's kind of a dick," Sam replies a little numbly, pressing his lips into a thin line. John Winchester left them with Bobby to work, and after that, he just never came back. Mary died after giving birth to Sam and the guilt has stuck with him forever. When John came back when Sam turned 18 and he had to explain to him that Dean disappeared and was probably dead, his father had been so cold that Sam was sure he blamed him for Dean's death, and still blamed him for Mary's. John wasn't happy at all to see Sam, just using him to buy alcohol and get drunk off his ass. Sam had half a mind to file a restraining order so John can't come crashing into his and Jess's house in the middle of the night again but him being the only blood family he had left just kept stopping Sam from doing so.

"I could see that," Adam half-smiles in empathy. "Did John have other kids?"

 _Dean_ , the name gets caught in Sam's throat. He never got closure with Dean. At least with Mary, he didn't even get to know her and moving on was easy, it was survivor's guilt from his birth that was hard. With Dean, he just disappeared and even though it took 20 years of disappearance to be legally declared dead, the police told Sam that they wouldn't keep their hopes up after a year.

"My older brother, Dean," Sam barely says. "He died a long time ago."

"I'm sorry," Adam quickly apologises. "Not that you need my pity. But I am sorry."

Before Adam can say anything else, Sam downs the rest of his now-cold coffee and says, "I should get back to the bank. Listen, if you give me your number, I'll call you sometime, yeah?" Adam writes his phone number down on a napkin that Sam shoves into his pocket and they wave goodbye, too distant for hugs still.

It's a brand new day and Dean is feeling a lot better about being caught off-guard by Sam's presence. At the very least, he should have more information from Adam in about an hour, so that's a huge weight off of his chest. The hostages are awake and standing, awaiting Dean's instructions. Paris stands among them, between two other women. Dallas is in the third vault, starting work on the escape route. It's one that Dean spent years planning -- eighty-five feet away from sewage so the police's seismographs won't detect it. He had the hole dug five years prior, leaving six inches of steel, thirty-two inches of reinforced concrete and twenty-two feet of dirt between their place in the bank and Adam's hideout. It would have been ten to twelve days of work, but he has an experienced miner down there. Hopefully, he'll make quick work of the tunnel.

Berlin is also missing this morning, down in the basement to begin work to obtain the gold bars. Gold bars on their own are too heavy, so Dean's plan was to melt them down into gold grains instead. Easier to transport and smuggle out now that they're way lighter and smaller. The vault with the gold bars has a security measure where the moment someone touches the door, the vault will fill up with water at 7,500 litres per minute, which means that it will be completely full in sixteen minutes. When they open the door, they're dead. Dean's plan is to not open the door at all.

What he knows about vault security in America is that they don't cover thermal lances or explosives, or they're at least not one of the main testing points for vaults. Either way, Dean intended to have Berlin and some great blacksmiths weld a hole and build an interconnection antechamber on the 14-ton vault door within the sixteen minutes it takes to fill up. Without opening the door, one of them will go through the chamber and come out the other end to weld the tube to the vault. They'll have to use the remaining time from the sixteen minutes after construction. It's risky, but Dean is sure they can do it. Once it's welded, the gold will be free to grab.

London is the last one gone this morning, down with some hostages she already picked out the night before to start printing dollar bills. They're going with just 50s for now. Dean would go with 100s and double their gain but London had the forgery for the 50s down perfect and switching up for 100s seemed inconvenient for everyone. Plus, they will still end up with at least a billion. Two, if they keep to schedule and stay for all ten to twelve days.

Dean opens, "Good morning, everyone. I hope you slept well last night. As well as you could, anyway. Well, it's time to get to business. To keep up morale in here and make sure you don't get restless, we have work for you. Rome over there will be choosing some of you to help."

Rome's blue eyes scan over the hostages, picking out a few stronger-looking ones. The ones going with Rome will be digging a tunnel in the boiler room. This one is forty-three feet from the main sewage line and _will_ get caught by a seismograph. It's the whole point of it -- let the police think they have them caught, but the actual escape is somewhere else, where Dallas will work.

Once Rome is done selecting, Dean gives him permission to leave with them. There's already nerves building up in the leftover hostages, he can feel it, and he's sure the other robbers do too. He tries to placate them by saying, "They won't be in any danger. As I said, they're just doing work. London has some with her to print money. The rest of you can just stay here and relax, alright? Breakfast will come soon enough."

One of the hostages raises his hand -- a shy kid called Ben Braeden if Dean remembers correctly. He's hyperventilating a little bit and Dean walks over, asking in a soft voice, "Are you okay? If I got you Xanax, would you feel better?" Ben nods and Dean asks, "Who else wants medication?" A handful of women ask for painkillers and sanitary supplies and Angeles promptly writes down their requests. A guy asks for an inhaler for his asthma. Someone asks for gastric pills. Dean asks those who asked for medicine to follow Angeles to the governor's office (where Jack and Frank already are) so they can wait in a more relaxing environment. It's the least Dean could do for inconveniencing them. If there was any way to hijack the bank for longer than a few hours without hostages, he would do it.

"Anyone else?" Dean asks, sweeping his eyes across the crowd of leftover hostages. Nobody says a word and Dean nods once in affirmation, sitting down and setting his rifle against his leg. With only Paris and Vegas left with the hostages and nothing new happening on the outside, Dean figures that staying to guard the hostages will suffice until Adam calls with information on Sam.

The heist was going smoothly. Abaddon and the four other security guards are tied up in another room, where Dallas can keep an eye on them. If everything stays on track, today will be productive: work on the escape route, the false escape route, gold melting and money printing will begin. The machinery for the gold will probably take two hours to construct since they are professionals. Fifty-two ingots, four hundred kilograms out of a grand total of ninety thousand, melted per hour, and then sixteen million dollars per hour with London...

Dean can't help but grin. When this is all over, maybe Sam won't even need to know how he got the money. He'll spend his share of the loot slow. He'll finally be able to find Sam again, tell him he worked hard. It's not a lie, technically. He worked hard on the plan, worked on it for years, and now he's working hard to make sure it all goes well. He'll finally be a good enough brother. Sam might forgive him for leaving. He had a reason. Albeit not a good one, but a reason nonetheless with the results to prove it.

Vegas goes up to take over guarding the hostages in the office so Angeles can come down to the main hall and serve as Dean's second-in-command.

Angeles is an odd guy, for sure. He carries himself almost like military but he has never served and doesn't intend to. He thinks the military is fucked up and after John Winchester, Dean agrees. Angeles arrives not five minutes later, saying, "Abaddon and the other guards are quiet. I ensured that their handcuffs were secure."

"Thanks," Dean replies, watching as Angeles settles against a pillar, lifting his mask to show his face. They didn't really worry about their identities in the bank. By the time they get out and give witness statements, they'll be scattered all over Earth on their own business. Untraceable like every gold grain and dollar bill they will leave with.

In complete honesty, Angeles intrigued Dean. For one, him choosing Angeles as his name. Dean chose Kansas City because he grew up in Kansas (even though Kansas City isn't in Kansas for some reason but instead, Missouri, but he thought Kansas sounded better than Lawrence). People like Adam and London chose the cities they've lived in. Paris, Rome, Vegas, Berlin and Dallas chose cities they liked visiting. Angeles chose L.A. and gave no explanation. All Dean knows about Los Angeles is that it's sprawling with creative minds and that it's also known as the city of angels. It's also ironically known as a sin city like Las Vegas. Maybe Angeles likes the irony. He seems like the kind of guy.

During the one year that they've been training and studying for the heist, Angeles often kept to himself. Though, he often couldn't sleep and ended up spending his nights in other people's rooms. Dean recalls that most nights, he wasn't alone in his room. Sometimes, when Dean himself can't sleep and he goes out for a smoke, Angeles joins him.

**7 months ago**

Dean lights the cigarette up, using his left hand to shield the spark from the night breeze. Once the butt of it crackles with embers, he exhales smoke and settles into a chair, watching the sky. It's a clear night, stars sparkling overhead and almost complete silence, other than the cicadas and light wind. In seven months, they will be breaking into the Bank of America. The thought excited him; when he's finally loaded and can afford a good life, he'll go look for Sam again and maybe Sam will forgive him. He did all of this for him, maybe he would understand.

Shuffling noise from behind him makes Dean turn in his seat. Angeles comes out in nightwear, dragging the chair next to Dean to sit on it. Dean asks, "Couldn't sleep?"

"No, but when have I ever been able to?" Angeles replies, taking the cigarette that Dean offers him. Dean can't remember at what point in the three months of knowing one another that they got into the habit of sharing their smokes, but it stuck and neither of them was itching to be rid of the routine. "What's on your mind?"

"The heist," Dean replies, fiddling with the hem of his shirt now that his hands are free from the distraction of a cigarette. "What I'll do after." A moment passes and then two, and Dean finds himself asking, "What are you gonna do with your share?"

"That's a big question. What will I do with a couple hundred million dollars..." Angeles trails off, smoke wisping from his lips as he hands the cigarette back to Dean. "I'd buy a nice cottage in Italy, I think. I quite liked it there. A small place, I don't like huge mansions. Too much space and it's too quiet. I'll get one of those expensive pianos. I'll make a new life."

Dean asks, "What happened to your old one?"

Angeles raises an eyebrow and it's like his blue eyes reflect the cigarette's smouldering end. "I thought you said no personal information. You didn't even let us share names. I had to use _Los Angeles_."

"That's just for security," Dean waves dismissively, looking off at the dark sky again as he takes a long drag. "And that sounds nice. Would you mind if I visited your place in Italy?"

"I would be offended if you didn't," Angeles replies, taking the cigarette. He only takes a quick inhale before passing it back to Dean, holding up a hand to show that he's done for the time being. "You better visit me."

"Promise, man," Dean chuckles, crushing the cigarette under his shoe. "Why'd you pick L.A.?"

"Why did you pick Kansas?" Angeles throws the question back.

"Grew up in Lawrence, Kansas," Dean answers easily. "Your turn."

Angeles leans into his chair, smiling, "I never said I was going to answer if you did."

"You dick," Dean gapes. "I thought we were getting comfortable, Ice Man."

Angeles rolls his eyes but the smile stays. "And you asked us to pick cities. Kansas is a state."

"You’re the one who said Kansas City is a city," Dean points out and Angeles chuckles quietly.

The silence goes over for a few more minutes, serene and relaxing, until Angeles finally asks, "What are you going to do with your share?"

"Same as you, kinda. New life, but with a little bit of my old one," Dean shrugs, suddenly feeling very naked under the scrutiny of Angeles's piercing stare. His staring is a little unnerving, especially with how long he can keep it up for, but Dean never thought much of it until now.

"A partner?"

"My brother," Dean corrects. He leaves it at that -- he's the one who said no personal information after all and he's shared more than he should have.

Angeles sits in that for moments and says, maybe in a gesture of sympathy, "I have a brother too. Older."

"What happened to him?"

"Jail," Angeles answers, a little steely. "Someone planted drugs on him and he couldn't prove his innocence. He's supposed to be out in a few months and I wanted to give him some of my money so he can restart too."

Dean nods, "At least he's getting out."

"Yeah."

"Listen," Dean suddenly turns to face Angeles. "I want you to be my second-in-command when we're in the bank."

Angeles sits up at that, surprised. It's a rare expression on Angeles's normally stone-cold features. "I thought you would pick Berlin."

"Yeah, Berlin's good. He's sharp, smart, adaptable, calm under pressure... But you're all those things too," Dean points out. "Why not you?"

"Why not _him_?" Angeles questions, both eyebrows raised by now.

"You're different," Dean says easily.

**Saturday, 10:52 AM  
25 hours  
2,400 kg  
$176 million**

With Kansas's permission, some of the hostages, if they wanted to, were allowed to film short messages for their families. Once they're done recording, Kansas will send it to Windom to send to the police so they can be distributed to their respective families. It's a nice enough gesture, though Vegas thought it was risky. She knows London and Berlin would agree with her but they're busy making their money to bother with something as trivial as video messages that won't last longer than a minute each.

Meg monitors every hostage closely, making sure that none of them says anything that would implicate anyone in the team. If they did, she deleted the message. They wouldn't know if she did anyway. After a while, it's Jack Kline's turn. He hits the record button on his phone, the only one they turned on to allow filming. They didn't turn on service or the internet just to ensure that the police won't catch it.

Jack goes on a borderline-tearful speech about how he's alright and that "one of the robbers, Angeles, he's taking care of me so I haven't been hurt at all". Angeles had a good heart, even though some debated it was made of stone with how outwardly emotionless he seemed to be sometimes. Meg knew different, she knew Angeles had a heart that felt too much. Most of the time, the people who felt the most, they came off blank to everyone else. Not her.

Of course, it's no surprise that Angeles took Jack Kline into his personal protection. He made sure he had enough to eat and was well taken care of. Maybe it's on orders by Kansas to protect one of their two biggest chess pieces, but nobody's pampering the governor and Angeles seems to be _bonding_ with the kid somehow.

Meg looks out of the window for a second to look over the police. They're mostly standing around, either discussing or aiming guns at the entrance. She thought it would save everyone's time if they just went home. They weren't leaving until they got their fortunes.

It's in the five seconds that Meg looks away that it snaps.

She quickly turns back to Jack, running over, "Hey, what the hell are you doing? Give that to me." Jack steps back with the phone and Meg reaches over, snatching it out of his hand and quickly switching the phone off. She glared up at him, slamming the phone down on the table. Not hard enough to destroy it, but hard enough to leave an ugly crack on the screen. "What did you do?"

"I'm sorry, I was scared. My finger slipped," Jack cowers.

Meg grits her teeth and grabs his arm, marching him out of the room. "Tell the others that because of your stupid mistake, that none of them gets to record messages anymore. Fucking _Christ_ , kid. Turning on service? What the _fuck_."

"Inspector, a phone's turned on," Donna notifies and Sam rushes over to the computers.

"Front and back cameras, come on," Sam snaps his fingers, watching as the images pop up. There's a moment where Jack Kline's face pops up on the front camera view, shock and fear growing on his face before the phone moves quickly in a scuffle. In a single frame, there's a dark-haired woman taking the phone from him. He turns to the tech experts and orders, "Get the image cleaned up. I want to know who that is."

A few minutes of combing databases for lookalikes bring the name Meg Masters to the forefront of the tent's attention. Sam quickly orders them to find her in early bank security footage from any time before the heist and see if she had anyone with her. In half an hour, they pull the name and face of Crowley MacLeod. Both of them have been arrested before on counts of robbery. MacLeod is wanted all over the UK and Masters is like water, slipping through the American police's hands every time.

Right then, the phone rings and Sam demands silence from the tent before he sits down, inserting the earpiece into his ear and answering. "Hello, Kansas."

" _Hey, Inspector_ ," Kansas greets. " _Listen, some of the hostages want medication. Write it down._ " Sam mimes writing on a notepad and Jody grabs a pen and notebook, ready to jot down the hostages’ requests. Kansas lists, " _Xanax for a kid, painkillers and sanitary supplies for the women, gastric pills and an inhaler._ "

"We'll have them sent by this afternoon," Sam promises. "Anything else they need?"

" _Just regular food and water, as per usual. That'll be all_ ," Kansas answers.

Sam quickly adds before Kansas can hang up on him, "You should surrender."

" _Sorry?_ "

“Meg Masters. Twenty-eight, dark hair, likes leather jackets a whole lot. And we have a Crowley MacLeod, a Brit with a love for black, thirty-three. Sound familiar to you?” Sam asks, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. _Please be right._ If they’re right, they’re firmly ahead of Kansas. There’s that pause that lasts too long again and Sam balls a fist in silent triumph and Zachariah smiles behind him. In Kansas’s silence, Sam continues, “If we dig some more, I’m sure we can find the rest of you. You have one hour to decide. Surrender or we start looking where you don't want us to.”

He hangs up before Kansas can even think about it.

Berlin and Vegas come to the office as soon as Dean sends Angeles to get them and he'd moved the hostages there to an adjoining room. The moment they walk in, Dean asks, "Did any of the hostages use a phone?"

"Just the ones recording messages for their families. I stopped it after Jack Kline," Vegas answers, furrowing her eyebrows. "Why?"

"Okay, don't freak out, we can still get back from this if it's true," Dean starts. "Are your names Meg Masters and Crowley MacLeod?"

Instantly, both of their eyes grow wide and Angeles watches quietly, casting his gaze to the floor like the carpet suddenly got interesting. Crowley stares at him, mumbling, "How did you get..."

"The inspector told me he found Vegas's face and I guess they tracked her through old bank footage when you two were doing recon," Dean explains, running a hand over his face. "He gave me one hour to decide if I should surrender or not."

This has Angeles nervous. "We're not surrendering."

"We're not," Dean assures. Meg and Crowley, though trying not to outwardly show it, look like death is trying to shake their hands. "Look, they probably found Vegas through a phone. Find the phone. Just because they know who you are doesn't mean you can't get off free. I promised I'd get all of you out."

"The phone is Jack Kline's. He got scared and turned on service and the internet connection when he was recording his message," Meg admits.

Dean nods, "Okay so no more messages. At least, none unsupervised. Done."

"How do you plan to let them let us go? The moment we get out, there's going to be an APB out on us," Crowley points out, rubbing his hands together in concern. "We won't even cross the border before we get caught."

Dean leans in closer, explaining, "In the gold vault where you're working, there's the door at the back, right?" When Crowley nods, Dean continues, "Back there are state secrets. Not just America. Any country with shit to hide, there's something there. If we run out of Jack and Frank, that's our backup insurance."

"Do you want us to get the secrets?" Angeles inquires, frowning. "I'd expect a door like that to be hard to get to."

"It's not easy," Dean agrees. "Using the oxygen bubbles from the diving gear, Dallas's blacksmiths can light fire underwater and cut a hole through that door. It'll take anywhere between one to two hours. The governor can open it in five seconds with a code. A bomb can open it in one."

Meg mutters, "Governor sure as hell won't open that fucking door."

Crowley looks up thoughtfully, weighing options, and says, "Gold production has already started. I can have someone work on that door while the rest of us do gold... Or I can save some time and bomb the door. But won't it damage what's inside?"

"Doesn't matter if it damages some of it. There's more than enough to secure us for _life_ ," Dean promises. "Get the state secrets and I swear you'll go off free when we're done here."

Crowley leaves right then to start working on the secrets and Meg goes to help him. When they're gone, Angeles looks out the window and notifies, "They're coming with the supplies."

"Let's go," Dean says, grabbing his rifle and pulling his mask over his face along with Angeles.

Dean, Angeles and Salem get about ten hostages to stand around aiming guns when the two cops bring the supplies to the entrance. The collection is easy enough and it's no more than three minutes before the cops are on their way out. Dean and Angeles bring the medicine and food up to the office for the hostages waiting there while Paris and London watched the hostages in the main room, waiting for Salem to arrive with her portion of the food.

When they are alone in the hallway, Dean carrying medicine and Angeles carrying food, Angeles says, "You know the state secrets could be false."

"Do you want me to test it?" Dean asks, pressing the elevator button and entering it when the doors open. "When Berlin gets them, I'll walk out and wave them over my head like a white flag. You see if they shoot me or back off."

Angeles grits his teeth, annoyed as he enters after Dean. "I'm not asking you to test it. I'm telling you to be careful. Confidence is going to kill us all."

The elevator doors close behind them and Dean lets his rifle fall to his side, turning to face Angeles. "Okay, _what_?"

"What?"

"Why are you giving me an attitude? I just told Vegas and Berlin that I'm gonna get them out of here, no sweat. We have _state secrets_ , man. That's the biggest bomb we have against the government other than the kid," Dean snaps. "If you're worried about them finding your identity or anyone else's, relax. None of us went to the bank other than the two of them and the car they drove, I made sure it was wiped clean and demolished. Untraceable. We're ghosts."

Angeles stares at him until the doors open and he walks straight to the office. Dean rolls his eyes and follows. The door opens and one of the hostages there, the one who asked for an inhaler, recoils from the coat rack. Angeles narrows his eyes at him and asks, "Zeddmore, can I talk to you outside?"

Dean looks on curiously as Ed follows Angeles out, looking about ready to shit his pants. He trusts Angeles to handle anything. He's second-in-command for a reason. He distributes the food and remaining medication that Angeles hadn't given out yet.

Castiel brings Ed Zeddmore to the hallway, stopping right at the railings. "What did you do?"

"Nothing, sir," Ed exhales shakily. Castiel rolls his eyes and leans in closer.

"You're scared out of your mind, you're practically the human embodiment of an earthquake. You were at the coat rack. What did you do?" Castiel asks again, voice leaving no room for bullshit. "This has been a tense morning. I suggest that you don't fuck around with me."

Ed swallows. "I was hungry."

Castiel glares at him, trying to pull the truth out from him. He didn't want to hurt the hostages as far as possible. When it's clear he's not going to get another answer (at least, not without force), he gives up. "Go back with the other hostages in the main room."

Ed starts to walk away as Kansas comes out, pulling up the sleeves on his coveralls, and asks, "What the hell was that about?"

"I thought he took something from the coat," Castiel answers. "But he said he was just looking for food."

A phone rings down the hallway and Ed freezes in his spot.

"Well, well, well... You were right," Kansas says, making his way towards Ed while Castiel lingered behind. "Cough it up, Ed."

Ed slowly pulls the phone out of his coveralls and places it in Kansas's open palm. "It's not mine. I was asked to grab it."

"Then whose is it?" Castiel asks.

"Please don't kill me, I'm sorry," Ed apologises as if he's going to cry.

Kansas sighs and glances back at Castiel, saying, "Look, man. We're not killing people here. But if you don't tell us whose phone this is, I'll be asking everyone else."

**Saturday, 12:30 PM  
27 hours  
3,200 kg  
$208 million  
**

A little over one hour since Sam told Kansas that he knows the identities of two of his robbers. So now he knows there are at least four robbers; Kansas, Meg Masters, Crowley MacLeod and the IT expert. Neither Meg nor Crowley is proficient with technology so it's safe to say that they are not the one who shut down bank security. It's more information than they had yesterday and Sam will take it.

He adjusts his seat at the desk and signals to Inias Garrison to connect the call between him and Kansas. After ringing out three times, the line picks up and Sam greets, "Hello, Kansas. Have you made up your mind?"

Kansas's modified voice replies, " _My associates and I have discussed it at length. I think the answer's kinda obvious. When you play hide and seek, you don't quit until you get caught._ "

Sam rubs his temples, closing his eyes. "So, what, this is a game for you? Hide and seek?"

"I _t's all fun and games until someone loses an eye, right? And nobody's lost an eye yet_ ," Kansas says.

Sam internally groans at how comfortable Kansas has gotten but he had to admit that he had a point -- nobody had gotten fatally injured yet. Other than his robber who got shot (who was fine according to Kansas), and the two officers who got shot as well who were also fine. There's still no casualties and Kansas's point stood in that aspect. He mutters into the phone, "You're facing sixteen years. We can make you a deal. If you surrender, we can knock it down. If you give up the names of every robber in there, we could cut the sentence in half for cooperation, and you'll get out even earlier on good behaviour. How does that sound?"

" _Like bullshit_ ," Kansas answers. Sam blinks in surprise, not expecting that reaction. Kansas goes on and says, " _I'll break it down for you, Inspector Winchester. Second-degree kidnapping with a firearm will be four to twenty years. First-degree burglary with explosives and weaponry, five to twenty. Computer crime in the way we've done it, five to twenty too. Transporting assault weapons, two to ten. Possession of those weapons, one to five. Criminal use of firearms, five years. Criminal possession of a pistol or revolver, two to five. Third-degree assault, one year. Hacking, one year. Disturbance, sixty days. Hostages, ten years. Battery against officers, one year. Federal bank robbery -- twenty years. Armed robbery, thirty years._ "

Sam's mouth feels dry as Kansas continues, " _With a hard lawyer, I'll get one hundred and forty-eight years, at least. Average human lifespan's barely eighty years. This is gonna be a life sentence, no matter how many years you manage to knock off. See? Bullshit. So I thank you for your concern, Inspector. We're up for one hundred and forty-eight years. We've decided to go for zero._ "

This time, Kansas is the one who hangs up first. Sam collapses in his chair, covering his face with his hands. He hadn't expected Kansas to have done his homework but he should've seen it coming. This is the same guy who got all his robbers into the bank and stayed there for an undetermined amount of time before they tried to escape --

Sam's eyes snap open and he sits up. " _Shit_."

"What?" Jody asks, turning to look at him.

Sam stands and says to Zachariah, "They never meant to escape. They wanted to stay in the bank. Think about it, they left the money at the entrance. If they intended to leave and got caught, they would have still taken the cash with them. They let it fly off into the wind and went back inside. They're confident. If they weren't, they'd have tried to run already. You were ready to send in SWAT yesterday and they're still in there." Zachariah ponders over Sam's rushed explanation as he adds, "They have the president's son and the governor of the bank, plus sixty-five other hostages. They have fucking state secrets in that building. They're _confident_ because they're winning and they know it."

Zachariah frowns, rubbing his chin in thought. "But if they're confident that they'll get away with it, why won't they just take the money with them instead of leaving it on the street? There were eight million dollars in those bags. Why wouldn't they take it?"

Sam shuts his eyes tight, thinking. It hits him like a bullet train right then. _Of course._ Why didn't he think of it earlier? He says, wide-eyed, "They don't need the eight million because they have more money inside. They're printing their own money."

"Jesus Christ," Jody gapes. "How fast do those machines go?"

Sam takes out his phone and does a quick search online, grimacing when he sees the statistics. "Thirty-two bills per sheet, ten thousand sheets per hour. That'll be three hundred and twenty thousand bills per hour. If they go for the generic safe fifty dollar notes... They're printing sixteen million dollars per hour."

"Fuck," Zachariah curses loudly. "This is their twenty-seventh hour in there. If they haven't stopped, that's _four hundred and thirty-two million dollars_!"

Officer Inias Garrison suddenly comes into the tent, saying, "Inspector, there's someone here who has a call for you."

Adam comes through the partition, holding out his phone, "Your girlfriend called me. I think you didn't answer your phone so she assumed..."

"Thanks," Sam says briskly, taking the phone from Adam and walking out of the tent for some privacy. Adam looks around and gives Zachariah a nervous smile before following Sam out. Sam greets, "Jess, hey. Sorry that I didn't pick up, my phone's still dead. Something wrong?"

"Your dad is here," Jess says unhappily. "The living room is a _mess_ , Sam."

"Fucking hell. As if today isn't bad enough," Sam grumbles, casting his gaze to the sky in a silent plea for a win. "Look, I'll go over right now, okay? Can you go to a neighbour's place in the meantime? Or into a locked room."

"I'm in our room. Door's locked."

Sam nods, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, good. I'll be there in ten." He hangs up and passes the phone back to Adam, "Thanks, man. But seriously, you gotta get off the police property before you get arrested by someone."

"Right, yeah. I'm about to head off anyway," Adam says. "I'll see you sometime, Sam."

"Yeah, see you," Sam says half-heartedly, leaving to hail a cab home.

_What if God was one of us..._

Dean lets the (frankly cheesy) ringtone play in front of all the hostages in the main hall, the song echoing through the spacious room. He paces slowly, holding the phone a little higher than his head. "Sound familiar?" The ringtone cuts off and then starts again. "Whose phone is this? Sure as hell ain't Zeddmore's."

_What if God was one of us..._

"Alright, we can stand here and listen to this shitty ass song all day," Dean says. Angeles, Salem, Paris and Rome watch every little movement in the hostages, any unsettled fidget, any uncomfortable flinch. "We can make this easy for everyone. Just tell me if this phone is yours. I'm not gonna beat you up. I literally just want to know whose phone it is." Ed looks freaked out but the more important detail is that he keeps looking in a certain direction. Dean follows his gaze to a group of hostages -- Mark Cain, Chuck Shurley, Bess Myers and some kid called Aidan. He holds the phone up to them and lets the ringtone go off another time.

_What if God was one of us..._

"It's not mine," Cain says, nodding towards Bess. "Not hers either. She's been here the whole time."

Aidan quickly defends himself, "It's not mine, I swear."

"So is it yours?" Dean asks, lifting the phone to Chuck's face.

Chuck tries to hold his own against Dean but eventually cracks under his steady stare. "It's mine."

"Why would you ask someone else to get it for you?" Dean mutters in irritation. "Fucking dick. If you wanna steal a phone, do it yourself." Angeles furrows his eyebrows, drawing thin lines between them as he cocks his head with the thought of what Dean's trying to do. Dean holds the phone out in his open palm, saying, "You want it? Take it."

Chuck falters. "What?"

"Do it yourself. Take the phone," Dean says incredulously when he sees Chuck shrink back. "I thought you wanted the phone. Now that you have to take it yourself, you don't want it?" When Chuck doesn't make a move to grab it, Dean shoves it into his pocket with a roll of his eyes. He hated people who won't do anything themselves.

Angeles and Rome trade troubled glances before he appears at Dean's side, asking in a hushed voice, "What are you doing? You're scaring the hostages."

"Am I? Thought it was just this guy. All I did was play the ringtone," Dean replies. He turns back to the hostages and says, "I'm sorry if I spooked you guys. Just needed to know whose phone is this. Would it make you feel better if we went up to the roof for air?" With dispersed nods from the hostages, Dean signals for Angeles and Salem to come to him. He orders, "Take the ones who need air to the roof. No longer than ten minutes."

Salem nods and she and Angeles round up some of the hostages to take to the roof. Dean stays in the main hall with Paris and Rome, waiting for any important calls from Adam.

Sam bustles through the front door, scoffing in disbelief when he sees that the doorknob has been stained with sticky beer residue. He calls out, shutting the door behind him, "Jess! Where are you?"

"Sam?" John slurs, knocking over a book on the mantel to stumble over. Sam grimaces as the book lands with a loud thud on the wooden floorboards. "Where're you?"

"At work," Sam answers coldly. "Listen, Dad. It's been a long day and I need to get back to the bank in a bit. Can you just grab your things and go home? I'll come to see you tomorrow or something. Please, just this once, go home." John mumbles incoherently, swooping down to pick up the fallen book but ending up sliding down the side of the mantel. Sam sighs loudly, exhausted, getting the overwhelming need to just sit down and either knock out into a coma or cry until he can't anymore.

Jess comes down the staircase right as John passes out and she walks over, cradling Sam's face in her hands. "You should get some sleep."

Right then, his phone rings and he picks up, muttering that it's him. Jody's voice comes over the phone, saying, "Sam, the Dalis are on the roof of the bank. We don't know what the hell they're doing. You should get here right now." Sam tells her he'll be there and hangs up, giving Jess an apologetic look.

"I need to go back to the bank," Sam repeats tiredly, placing a hand over Jess's.

"How long has it been since you last slept?" Jess asks in concern, bringing Sam's face down so she can hug him to her chest in an attempt to relax him.

"Over twenty-four hours," Sam answers. "God, I wish I could sleep but I need to get this case done as soon as I can. There are important people in that bank..."

Jess withdraws and presses a kiss to his forehead, saying, "I won't hold you, but try to get _at least_ five minutes?"

"No promises," Sam mumbles, kissing Jess on the lips before bidding her goodbye, dragging his feet all the way back to the bank as fast as they'll carry him.

"Finally, some sun," Salem grins. She and Castiel were at the doorway of the roof -- out of sight of the snipers but certainly not out of sight of the sun. The sunlight is warm on his face and Castiel is grateful for this small window of opportunity to get some fresh air. While the windows do let light in, it can never compare to feeling it on your skin.

Castiel turns back to the hostages and orders, "Put on your masks and make sure to grab a fake gun with you. Ten minutes to walk around the roof and then we're going back in. Understand?" They nod and Castiel slips his mask over his face, jerking his head towards the door to get them to start moving. Five minutes later, all the hostages who wanted to go to the roof are milling about, talking or just basking in the sunlight. It's relaxing, actually, and Castiel is sure that Salem appreciates the moment of tranquillity.

In the bank, there isn't a single moment of silence. Even if no hostages or robbers are talking, even if Abaddon isn't shouting abuse and death threats at them, there's always the distant sound of work done on the false escape, the neverending muted sound of the machines printing their money. Better than the sound of ocean waves crashing on a shore. A better sound, more satisfying than anything Castiel has ever listened to, the sound of money.

He smiles and opens his arms up to the sun. A welcome feeling.

"Enjoying yourself?" Salem teases. He can hear her cheeky smile in her question.

"Quite impossible not to," Castiel replies. "It's good to stretch our legs somewhere different."

"Right?" Salem says agreeably. After a moment of quiet, she asks, "What the hell was that about with Kansas in the main hall?"

Castiel shrugs, adjusting the mask to make sure it's fully over his face. "I don't know. I don't think he even realised he was freaking the hostages out. Kansas has a strange way of doing things sometimes."

"I thought he was gonna kill the guy, to be honest," Salem jokes.

Maybe it's a joke in poor taste or tensions were high after Kansas's kind-of-power show, but then one of the hostages turns to them, raising their gun. Albeit fake, perhaps the hostage had forgotten it had no bullets, but he aimed it at them. "He could have killed me?" _Chuck._

Salem's hands instantly go up and Castiel wonders if she's pretending for the snipers, for Chuck or if she genuinely forgot it was not a real gun. She tries to placate, "Hey, it was just a joke, alright? Put that down please."

"You just said he wanted to kill me!" Chuck protests. Castiel looks behind him and sees snipers on the opposite building beginning to aim and he grabs Salem's arm, tugging her to the ground.

She looks at him, her expression hidden by the mask, and Castiel explains, "Snipers, let them think we're hostages." Salem obeys, keeping her arms raised as she kneels in front of a hysterical Chuck. The other hostages, Castiel surmises, have clearly all forgotten that Chuck is no actual threat as his gun wasn't even real because now they're screaming and running around.

In the tent, Sam comes in, ready to get into work, and says, "Someone update me. What's going on?"

"They're about to execute hostages," Donna declares, tense as she points to the body-camera live feed by the snipers. They are all masked still, which means any of them could be robbers or hostages. One guy is waving a rifle around like a maniac and two are kneeling, hands raised in surrender, and the rest are running and tripping over each other. He can almost hear them screaming.

Zachariah comes over and says, "We should shoot! The one with the rifle is obviously a robber."

"Shut the hell up, Adler. It could be anyone, they're wearing masks!" Sam snaps, trying to come to a decision.

The SWAT team officer in charge, Victor Henriksen, asks, "Inspector, a sniper says he has a clear shot of the one with the rifle."

Sam closes his eyes and places a hand over the crucifix necklace under his shirt, praying to God he's right, and orders, "Shoot him before he shoots someone."

Victor echoes it into his radio and on the live feed, the man goes down, collapsing on the ground. The sniper stands to get a better view as the two hostages (robbers?) who were kneeling take his mask off. Sam's lungs cave in on themselves as Jody's mouth falls open and she voices what everyone realised, "That's Chuck Shurley, he manages printing in the bank. We shot a hostage."

"Fuck, _fuck_!" Sam shouts in frustration, kicking a chair. He exhales into his hands and grabs the phone, telling Mick Davies to connect him to Kansas.

Adam's call comes exactly when Dean thinks it was coming, and it's just him asking why the hell they're on the roof. Dean explains that apparently he had unsettled some hostages and as an apology, he granted them permission to walk around the roof with Salem and Angeles to calm down. Adam accepts it even though he doesn't think it's a good idea, which Dean appreciates.

Not even five minutes after Adam's, Dean gets a call from Sam. He picks up and greets, "Hey, Inspector. What can I do for you?"

"Someone was shot on the roof," Sam says, sounding like he's beginning to panic. "We have an ambulance on the way for him. If you'll bring him to the door, we can tend to him."

Instantly, a striking sense of fear grips Dean's heart and he asks, "Who got shot?"

"Chuck Shurley, the print manager of the bank," Sam answers and a wave of relief washes over Dean. Thank God the 'him' isn't Angeles.

"You shot a hostage?" Dean questions, watching Angeles and a hostage settle Chuck onto a gurney. " _Why_?"

"Poor judgement on my part, I didn't know he was a hostage. I apologise. Please bring him to the door so the ambulance can handle him," Sam almost pleads.

Dean instantly dismisses, "Nobody's leaving the bank, man. We know how to remove a bullet and if I remember correctly, one of the hostages is a vet. Amelia something. We'll manage."

A shuffling sound over the receiver lets Dean think that Sam is consulting with his colleagues. A moment later, Sam says, "At least let us send in a medical team. _Please_."

Dean pauses agonisingly long -- at least, agonising for Sam -- and finally yields, "Two surgeons and one nurse with medical equipment. That's all I will allow."

"We're sending them to you," Sam informs. "Five minutes."

Dean hangs up after that and turns to leave the office only to see Angeles already at the doorway. Angeles pushes up his mask to reveal his face and says, "I was going to tell you about Chuck but I suppose you have that handled. Salem is moving the hostages back to the main hall to leave the lobby empty for the surgeons."

"Good, let's go wait for them," Dean says, brushing past Angeles.

Angeles pulls at Dean's sleeve, stopping him, and says, "Not that it's any of my concern, but if that's your brother, you are acting considerably cold."

"Well, he's a cop," Dean shrugs. Angeles gives him a flat look but doesn't argue Dean's point. The matter dropped, Dean says, turning to go down the stairs, "When he called, he didn't say who got shot, just that it was a man. I thought you got shot and it... felt like shit."

Angeles raises his eyebrows in pleasant surprise, "You were worried about _me_?"

"I like you, okay?" Dean mutters. "I think you're a great guy and it would suck if you got shot."

Angeles smiles -- it's a rare sight so Dean had unintentionally made a habit out of just indulging in it every time he gets to see it. He teases, reaching over to stroke his cheek with a finger, "Aw, Los Angeles is smiling."

"Shut up," Angeles grins, shoving his hand away and making Dean chuckle.

He quickly recomposes himself and says in a serious voice, "Chuck got shot, I shouldn't laugh." A look from Angeles has Dean laughing all over again, even though he knew he shouldn't be. Angeles had a contagious smile. He pushes Angeles lightly, insisting, "Stop making me laugh, asshole."

"I'm not even doing anything," Angeles protests. "Come on, we need to get the surgeons."

"You go, I'll go check in with Berlin," Dean says, breaking off from Angeles. "Update me."

"Kansas agreed to two surgeons and one nurse, they're arriving in five minutes," Zachariah says once Kansas drops the line. "I suggest we send someone in. They don't know what any of us look like, not yet."

"I'll go," Sam volunteers.

"They know your voice," Jody points out.

Sam insists, "Kansas might not even be in the bank! Look, I'll go. If they catch me, we'll send someone else as a nurse. They won't believe that we'd send two fake nurses in a row. Are we agreeable? We don't have time for a debate." Zachariah eventually gives up arguing and agrees while Donna goes to get him nurse attire to change into.

"Put this on," Jody instructs, holding out a small microphone to him. Sam sticks it to the back of a pair of false glasses, hoping that it's good enough.

Once the surgeons arrive, Sam carries a medical kit and follows them up the steps of the Bank of America.

**Saturday, 6:41 PM  
33 hours  
5,600 kg  
$304 million  
**

The thing about cops is that they tend to be fucking stupid as a collective, no matter how intelligent they were as individuals.

Rome alerted Castiel that Windom was trying to call Kansas when Meg and London brought the surgeons in. Since Dean was busy monitoring gold production in place of Crowley, Castiel answered instead to find out that the nurse was the inspector in charge of their case, Sam Winchester, Kansas's brother. Castiel sends Salem to tell Kansas not to come up as Sam is here. While a part of Castiel thought that, maybe, Kansas might have liked to see his long-lost brother, it would be risky. Yes, he could wear a mask and even speak since his voice is modified in the calls, but it's his brother. Who knows what freaky little detail would give it all away?

Turns out that Kansas agreed anyway, so Castiel runs point on the surgeons and fake nurse.

Castiel gets the hostages to line up at the doorway with the guns just to ensure they don't try anything. Meg holds out a plastic tray, saying, "Watches, necklaces, rings, put that shit here." When Sam moves slowly to remove his glasses, Castiel knows that's the bug.

"Lie down on the floor, please. Berlin will search you now," Castiel says, gesturing to Crowley who had his mask off. The three of them lie down on the floor as Crowley scans them with a metal detector. Meanwhile, Salem and London work on getting the microphone off of Sam's glasses. London drills as small a hole as she can and Salem slips the tiny microphone into the glasses' hinge. They make quick work of covering up the hole and repainting over it, making it look like there was no bug implanted into it.

Sam observes from the floor, "You're not Kansas."

"No," Castiel affirms. "My name is Angeles."

"Why are you wearing a mask and they aren't?" One of the surgeons asks, glancing at Crowley and Meg.

Meg sneers, "Not all of us have our faces on national television."

Salem puts the glasses back in the plastic tray and Meg brings it back to the surgeons and Sam. Sam puts the false glasses back on, having to keep up the ruse, and Meg barely stifles a laugh at his poor act. Castiel brings them to the lobby where Chuck is laid out on a gurney. "Kansas says you have one hour. Will that be sufficient?"

"We'll try our best," one of the surgeons say before she gets right to work, giving Chuck anaesthetic. 

Sam asks, passing a tool to the surgeon, "Where's Kansas?"

"He sends his apologies, he couldn't make it. He's busy, as I'm sure you are right now as well," Castiel replies. "Right, Nurse?"

"Right, right," Sam says, pretending to get engrossed in the surgery despite doing nothing else except passing tools over. Fifty minutes later, the surgeons are finally getting to stitching up the wound.

Castiel is willing to leave it be, but Meg challenges, "Hey, nurse. Why don't you stitch that up? You've done nothing this whole time you've been here."

Castiel falters. "Vegas."

"No, I'll do it," Sam says determinedly, nervously taking the needle and thread from the surgeon who eyes him in concern. Sam pricks Chuck's skin with the needle and threads one end to the next, but when he tugs and the skin pulls together, he quickly forfeits, "I can't do it, I'm sorry."

"He's new," a surgeon explains, taking the needle and thread from him. "I'll do it."

"Of course, go ahead," Castiel nods, trying to shoot a pointed look towards Meg.

Apparently, the bug they planted on Sam actually works, which has an excited Adam calling to inform him that the police are communicating on channel 8. Sam also demanded that they do another deep investigation into old bank footage to find anything of use from Meg and Crowley. Dean and Adam both decide that it's not a big problem, sure that they've tied up the loose ends on that. Paris digs up a radio from an office and they hook it up to that channel so they can keep up with the police while Adam keeps up with Sam. It's all working out fine, and Dean is grateful for another day without any consequential errors.

He rests in the chair and exhales deeply through his nose, soaking in the quiet whirring of money printing machines that thrum in the walls.

"I like the sound too," Angeles's deep voice jars Dean out of his trance. Dean smiles, gesturing for him to come in. Angeles sets his rifle against his chair and sits across the desk from him. Running a hand over the mahogany, Angeles says, "A long time ago, I actually wanted an office job. A nice mahogany table like this one."

"You seem like the type," Dean hums in thought. He could see it; Angeles as some big shot CEO. His black hair styled up neatly and him dressed in a suit. In the house where they studied for the heist for a year, Angeles often wore suits but frequently without the blazers, so the image isn't hard to picture in his mind's eye. "You'd be good at it. Focussed, bossy."

"I am not bossy," Angeles denies.

Dean grins and leans on his elbows on the table, "So bossy. You did good in my place when Sam came."

Angeles hesitates before reporting, "I don't like being a snitch but I thought you'd want to know that Vegas tried to get Sam to stitch Chuck up."

Dean freezes. "What did he do?"

"He got one stitch in before he gave up," Angeles answers. Dean nods slowly.

"Okay, not too bad. I'll make sure she doesn't bully him again," he says. "Today was fucking crazy and I wasn't even around to witness most of it."

Angeles raises his eyes to the ceiling, "Believe me, you do not want to be. Chuck waving that gun around like a madman was bad enough. You really shook him up about the phone."

"Isn't it true, though? Don't get other people to do your dirty work for you," Dean says, gesturing wildly to make a point. "I even gave him the chance to just take it. If he took it, I'd let him keep it but he didn't even try. He just didn't want to do it himself."

"I'm afraid you have made a valid point," Angeles mumbles. "Well, forget about Chuck. How are you feeling? We're two days into your heist."

"The only casualty is at the hands of the police, so we're gonna win public favour by tomorrow morning when Chuck getting shot hits the news. I'd say I'm feeling pretty good," Dean smiles easily. "London said we're up about three hundred and four million and Berlin's got five thousand and six hundred kilos of gold in grains when Sam came over. Dallas is making good progress on the escape route. Can't complain."

Angeles agrees, a slight smile growing on his face, "It is going pretty well."

"This good luck streak better keep up," Dean says, regarding the sky as if talking to God. "But I gotta say, I don't think I'd have the fort half down if you weren't here. You're like my lucky charm or something."

"Your lucky charm?" Angeles echoes curiously.

"Things seem to go right with you. Can't figure out why," Dean mumbles, still leaning forwards on his elbows.

Angeles grins easily, shifting closer, "Don't speak too soon."

Dean can't help but ask, "There's something here, right? I'm not imagining things? It was there when we were studying, it's here when we're talking."

Angeles stares at him, eyes somehow piercing through the dim evening light. "Maybe."

"But it's bad timing."

"Yes."

"We're in the middle of the biggest heist of history."

"We are."

Dean stands and leans over the desk to pull Angeles into a kiss that's eagerly returned. Angeles's fingers run through Dean's hair as they kiss, mouths opening and breath warm over his lips. Dean's breaking his own number one rule for the heist -- no personal relationships in their circle -- but he couldn't even really be assed about it. Angeles is just so breathtaking.

Dean barely comes up for air before going in to kiss him again, taking every second that the heist will spare him in the hopes that there will be more time tomorrow.


	3. DAY THREE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning:  
> (False) Allegation of human trafficking  
> Use of explosives/grenades  
> Murder by gun

**5 months ago**

"Angeles, are you awake?"

Castiel blinks himself awake and stares blearily into the darkness, seeing the silhouette of Rome -- Balthazar Freely -- in the doorway against the hallway light. He mumbles, rubbing his eyes, "It's late, what do you want?"

Balthazar turns on his bedroom light and beams at him, saying, "Vegas, London, Berlin, Salem and I were planning to sneak out to a festival down the street. We were wondering if you wanted to come along." Castiel smiles and sits up, adjusting his sleep shirt that hangs off his shoulder. Balthazar laughs at the sight, teasing, "I thought you'd wear a suit to bed."

"I tried. It's not as comfortable," Castiel says, schooling his face into as serious an expression as he can before they both chuckle. He asks, getting out of bed to pick something to wear, "What about Kansas?" He adds after a moment, "And Dallas, Paris and Windom?"

"I knew you would ask about Kansas," Balthazar grins, his British accent sounding more obnoxious as he leans against the doorway with a smug look. "You like him, don't you?"

Castiel replies, pulling out a dress shirt, "It's impossible."

"Do you mean impossible between you or impossible to like him? Because he's very likeable to the rest of us and I _know_ he's likeable to you," Balthazar says, raising his eyebrows as if willing Castiel to lie his way out of the question. Castiel rolls his eyes and Balthazar walks into the room, sitting down on his bed, "You know there's still five months to the heist, right?"

"So?"

"If you want him, go for it," Balthazar says like it's that simple. "Nobody will look at you any differently. We already think you two are shagging."

" _Rome_!" Castiel spluttered, almost dropping the shirt in his hand.

Balthazar laughs, "What? With the way that you two look at each other, is it really _that_ far a cry to think that?" He grins at the way Castiel recovers from that, finally settling on a shirt to wear and gesturing to him to turn away. He does and says with his back facing Castiel, "Anyway, yes, he's coming. I just wanted to see if you would ask about him and you sure did not disappoint."

Castiel scoffs, changing his pants as well. "You're unbelievable."

"The most unbelievable is often the most memorable," Balthazar smiles, turning back around to look over Castiel's outfit. "You look dashing. Kansas is going to swoon."

"Shut up," Castiel mumbles, looking at himself in the mirror. He rakes his fingers through his hair to somewhat style it and once he decides he looks presentable, he looks back at Balthazar who looks on expectantly. "The most memorable, really?"

Balthazar frowns as if asking if he's wrong, pointing out, "Kansas came up with that unbelievable heist and you'll remember him for the rest of your life for that."

"You will too," Castiel retorts. "So are you in love with Kansas, then?"

"Nobody said anything about being in love. Are you?" Balthazar smirks, making Castiel throw a book vaguely in his direction. Balthazar dodges and laughs again. "Alright, alright. I'm done."

"You better be, I'm your second boss. Don't make me stick you with digging duty," Castiel jokes. A part of him felt bad that Dallas was going to bear most of the grunt work for their escape. It's not an easy task, but he's the only one among them with any sort of mining experience.

Balthazar makes a 'yikes' expression, standing up just as Vegas, Salem and London show up at his door, dressed head to toe in ridiculously flamboyant clothing. Feather boas, cartoonish glasses and bright clothing wrap their figures and London grins, tipping her glasses down her nose to peer at him over the top, "Come on, Angeles. You're wearing just that?"

"I think it's fine," Castiel frowns and London instantly stalks over to his closet to pick out something more suitable for a night festival. "Isn't it fine?" Salem joins her and Castiel doesn't bother stopping them.

Vegas asks, picking up the book Castiel threw earlier, "Where's Kansas and Berlin?"

"In their rooms getting ready, I believe," Balthazar answers. "Ladies, if you want to choose something for Angeles, I suggest you be quick. Once Kansas and Berlin are ready, we're leaving whether he's changed or not."

Kansas appears at the doorway, grinning widely, "You guys ready? Is Angeles coming?" Castiel takes in the sight -- Kansas is wearing some patterned button-up shirt but left it open, exposing his body under it with an amulet hung by a black cord around his neck. He wears black jeans and shoes, and rings line his knuckles.

"I am," Castiel affirms. "Well, no need to pick a new outfit. I'll wear this."

London sticks out her tongue at him and walks off, linking arms with Vegas, and Salem runs out of the room in excitement for the festival. Knowingly, Balthazar slips out as well, leaving just Castiel and Kansas. Kansas looks at him and his face lights up.

"You look really good," Kansas compliments; he has this grin spreading across his face, wide, sunny and slightly embarrassed. _It's endearing_ , Castiel thinks.

"So do you," Castiel replies, smiling. "But I think you already know that."

A moment of quiet between them tides over into one where they both laugh and Kansas says, "We should get going. Did Rome tell you I was coming?"

"Not at first, but he's kind of ridiculous like that," Castiel answers, letting Dean loop his arm over his shoulder and pull him close. He turns off the light behind them, saying, "I think I'd remember him years after this heist is over."

"Me too. Rome's fucking hilarious," Kansas barks a laugh, and they walk on to catch up with him and the three women.

**Sunday, 8:35 AM  
46 hours  
10,800 kg  
$512 million**

Since the one hour stay in the bank, Sam has a new list of facts to focus on:

  * Angeles might be the second-in-command if he was standing in for Kansas's absence.
  * Four more identified robbers: Angeles, Salem, London and Rome, which totals to at least seven robbers including Kansas, Meg Masters and Crowley MacLeod.
  * Confirmed: four male and three female robbers.
  * They're using city names as aliases except for Kansas, who is using a state. If he can find the connections between the chosen cities and the people, maybe he can figure something out (but MacLeod has never been publicly spotted in Berlin).
  * Still unknown if Kansas is stationed in the bank or not.



After the visit to the bank, Sam demanded the team to go through the bank's footage again to look for anything that could be of importance. Donna Hanscum came up with the discovery of car keys that they put through the metal detector in every visit, from their first to last one. According to the car keys, the car is a Volvo P1800, a classic two-seater sports car. Very difficult to obtain in modern-day contexts because of how exclusive it is, belonging to private owners, so it should be easy enough to locate which one has been purchased and used in America. He sends Donna off to look for the car and pray that it's still around and crawling with fingerprints. 

While waiting for information regarding the Volvo, he calls Kansas for the first time that day and after three rings, the line picks up and the familiar modified voice greets, " _Good morning, Inspector._ "

"Morning, Kansas," Sam answers, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of his chair. "I'm calling to ask after the condition of Chuck Shurley."

" _He is recovering well. We always have someone watching him and he is in the care of Amelia Richardson. She's a vet so have comfort that she knows what she's doing_ ," Kansas informs. Whether he's being sarcastic about taking comfort in Amelia being a vet, Sam can't tell through all the layers of voice modification. But it does set his heart slightly at ease that there's someone there who he knows can help if the surgeons aren't allowed in when something happens to Chuck. A medical professional, albeit specialising in animals, a medical professional nonetheless. He still felt awful about wrongfully getting him shot.

"Good," Sam replies, writing down to make sure to notify Amara Shurley that her brother is recuperating. "Listen, I have bad news. I'm getting kicked off of the case. I haven't pulled anything useful and they want to switch me out for a hard hitter, get them a home run." Zachariah walks over, staring at him with wide-eyes and Sam mouths to him that he's lying. "If you want to keep negotiating with me, you have to give me something. I can't guarantee that the next negotiator will be as willing to put up with your bullshit."

That renders Kansas quiet until he asks, " _What do you have in mind?_ "

"Release ten hostages. It's not much compared to the remaining fifty-seven. You can do ten, right?" Sam negotiates, nodding up at Zachariah from his seat. "I want them all to be minors."

Kansas is silent for a few seconds in thought before saying, " _I'll have to think about it. Can I give you an answer in an hour?_ "

"Yes. Call me back when you make your decision," Sam answers, hanging up.

"They're looking for the Volvo P1800 that Vegas and Berlin used on their recon trips," Adam says once Dean picks up. Bugging Sam is one of the best ideas ever. Thank God the cops are too fucking stupid to get rid of the fake glasses and just kept it lying around. "Sam sent Donna Hanscum to look for it. It's not going to be a problem, right? Do I need to find it?"

"Don't worry about it, Dallas and I personally paid to have it deconstructed and ravaged for parts at an auto shop a month ago. We paid the guy to keep his mouth shut about whose car it is. They're not gonna find the Volvo," Dean assures, waving dismissively. "So that's covered. Now, I need to discuss something with you and Angeles."

Angeles crosses his legs one over the other in his chair, looking up at Dean with one eyebrow raised, "What?"

Dean and Angeles hadn't had time to talk about the kiss that happened the night before and honestly, Dean didn't want to bother about it until after they're out of the bank. If anything happened between them, he wanted it to happen where they don't have a SWAT team waiting for them outside. He wanted it to be somewhere nice, and they can have piña coladas or something, under a warm sun. He didn't want it in this cold fucking bank. With the way Angeles is acting like it never happened, he supposes he felt the same, which is a relief.

"Sam came to me with a deal -- release ten minor hostages and we can keep him as the negotiator. He says he's being swapped," Dean explains. "Adam, you heard anything about that?"

"Nobody said if he's lying or not, at least not verbally or in the tent. It's 50/50," Adam answers over the phone.

Castiel instantly says, "As much as I agree with releasing minor hostages, we need them."

Dean suddenly snaps his fingers, an idea coming to him, "Or we don't."

"What are you talking about?" Adam questions.

"We can bargain with them. One choice paints them as heroes but if they pick the other option, they're ruined. Either option, we'll be alright," Dean says, already excited at the idea of it. "The news already says we're not stealing anyone's money, just borrowing the printers to make our own new ones. If we haven't already won the public over with that, they'll be on our side after this."

One hour passed. Sam calls Kansas and waits for him to pick up. When the beeping ends, he immediately gets to business, "What's your choice?"

" _I have to say you caught me off guard_ ," Kansas answers. " _But I have a proposition for you. I can give you ten minors._ " Before Sam even has a second to be happy about the small win, Kansas follows it up with, " _Or I can give you Jack Kline_."

"Sorry?" Sam almost stammers. It's his turn to be caught off guard and he hated it.

" _We can give up ten hostages, or we can give up Jack Kline. It's your choice_ ," Kansas answers, plain and simple, and Sam realises that he is once again losing in this game of chess.

Sam asks, already turning slightly in his seat to face Zachariah and Victor, "Can I discuss with my colleagues?"

" _Ten minutes and I want my answer._ "

Sam puts Kansas on hold and instantly says, "We're taking the ten hostages."

Zachariah starts protesting, "We need to get Jack Kline out, he is the top priority. Higher than even the governor. If they're giving him up, we need to take that chance. They already know he's important." Victor is silent but nods along with Zachariah, leaving Sam in disbelief.

"It's ten kids to _one_! Doesn't matter if he's the president's son. What will the public think about this?" Sam argues.

Zachariah puts a hand on Sam's shoulder as if willing him to calm down and says, "I will assume full responsibility for this decision. Tell him we'll take Jack Kline."

Sam regrettably takes Kansas off hold and says, "We'll have Jack Kline."

" _I didn't expect you to choose that. One life over ten. Can I have half an hour to think about this choice?_ " Kansas asks. Sam grants him the time, hanging up and burying his face in his hands, sighing deeply. It's all just a game of chess -- thinking ahead, waiting for the next move, eating each other's pieces, and he is losing.

Dean gathers Adam and Angeles again to talk about their next move, Adam and Dean informing Angeles that Sam and his team have discussed and decided to take Jack Kline instead of the ten other kids. Dean has to admit that he'd been a little concerned when Sam told him their choice because if the decision went public -- and it will -- Sam would get implicated since he's leading the investigation. Though Dean didn't think Sam would go with the more morally compromising decision, Adam told him that it was Zachariah's insistence and that he will bear the responsibility.

Even with that, Dean still lied about needing half an hour to think about it. He just needed to buy Adam time to edit the audio and leak it to a news channel. Cheers for gullible cops (sorry Sam, but kinda not really).

"What do you plan to do? Are we really letting Jack go?" Angeles asks.

"Yeah, we will. I keep my word," Dean nods, sure, and turns to the camera in the office to "look" at Adam. He orders, "Release the call, but put in what Zachariah said too. Let the public know they barely hesitated to pick Jack over ten kids." Adam hangs up after that and Dean looks back at Angeles, saying, "Go get Jack. I'll call them."

"We win the public then what?" Angeles questions.

Dean answers, picking up his Dalí mask, "Buys us more time with the hostages and the public. We need it. They're more important than the cops in this bank."

Angeles doesn't argue, only nodding once before leaving to get Jack from the main hall for release.

Kansas agrees to the release of Jack Kline under the condition that an unarmed officer claims him from the entrance. Jody volunteers and Sam watches as she jogs up the steps of the Bank of America as four Dalís with rifles stand guard, one of them bringing forward Jack. He's dressed in the same red coveralls as everyone else obviously, and he looks genuinely fine. Maybe a little stressed out from all the artillery inside and outside the bank, but otherwise fine.

Zachariah mumbles something behind him about how the president will be pleased with their progress this morning. Sam can't even be bothered about President Rooney because he just stood by as they chose _one boy_ over ten kids. Zachariah starts talking about negotiating the release of the governor next until an officer tells them that the robbers have released something on the news.

When Sam hears his voice on the television set, he feels his heart plummet down to his feet and he runs back into the tent to watch.

" _Sorry?_ "

" _We can give up ten hostages, or we can give up Jack Kline. It’s your choice._ "

“ _Can I discuss with my colleagues?_ ”

“ _Ten minutes and I want my answer._ ”

Zachariah's eyes widen when he hears himself on the audio track saying, “ _We need to get Jack Kline out, he is the top priority. Higher than even the governor. If they’re giving him up, we need to take that chance. They already know he’s important. I will assume full responsibility for this decision. Tell him we’ll take Jack Kline._ ” Zachariah snaps, rushing to IT, "How the fuck did they get that audio? Kansas was on hold!"

The audio cuts off and the reporter jumps straight into explaining how this means that the police value governmental figures over their regular citizens, picking one over ten, and Sam puts his head on the desk as he listens to Zachariah shouting about finding out how they got the audio of him discussing with Sam.

Kansas just keeps fucking winning. Sam can't counter him fast enough and it's beginning to get more than frustrating. He needs a win, whether that be in regards to the public or against Kansas.

“ _We need to get Jack Kline out, he is the top priority. Higher than even the governor. If they’re giving him up, we need to take that chance. They already know he’s important. I will assume full responsibility for this decision. Tell him we’ll take Jack Kline._ ”

Balthazar watches from the sidelines as Castiel and Kansas stand by the small television set, playing the current breaking news for them. Kansas had Windom release combined audio clips of their previous call with the police and the bug. The hostages look crestfallen, to say the least, and the kids are especially troubled by it, discussing among themselves. Jack had a perfect total of ten other classmates, the only kids in the bank. Balthazar images that it's a huge kick in the ass when you've been wishing for the cops to save you and they think that the president's kid is more important than you all combined.

Once it's done and the reporter behind talking about her opinion of it, Kansas shuts it off and says, "You think the cops care about you? They chose Jack Kline over _ten_ of you."

“Fucking jackasses,” one of the girls say. Balthazar recalls her name to be Krissy Chambers. Her friend, Josephine Barnes, rubs her shoulders in comfort. ”How’s Jack any better than us?”

"Your faith in the authorities is misplaced," Castiel says in his most placating tone.

"Fuck the police," Jesse Turner mutters, angered, and Kaia Nieves settles next to him, looking equally displeased.

**Sunday, 12:06 PM  
49 hours  
12,000 kg  
$560 million**

"The media is eating us alive," Zachariah complains.

Sam snaps, nine shades of irritation crossing his features, "And whose fault is that? What fucking jackass picks one kid to save when you could save ten?"

"What was I supposed to do? Tell the president that we left his son in the hands of armed robbers?" Zachariah spluttered. Sam throws his hands up, turning away to simmer in his anger. Zachariah stares at Sam, thinking, and says, "I have an idea to turn the tide to our favour." When Sam looks at him, beckoning him to go on, he elaborates, "We pin something on one of the named robbers. Something they can't forgive. Cannibalism, selling drugs to minors, human trafficking."

"No!" Sam immediately shuts down. "Jesus Christ, Zach."

Zachariah challenges, "They have _demonised_ us, Sam! We're trying to save the hostages but they think we're the bad guys. If this goes on, they'll start helping the robbers stay in the bank longer and I'm sure neither of us wants that." Sam doesn't make a move to interject and he continues, "Listen, there is a case that has been left unsolved. Human trafficking across the border. We can pin it on Crowley MacLeod or Meg Masters."

"That's _horrible_ ," Sam says in disbelief. "Human trafficking, really? He didn't even do it! And what if the public finds out that it's not true?"

"They won't find out because we won't tell them!" Zachariah says indignantly.

Sam argues, "I don't care if they're robbers. They haven't done anything extreme except for hijacking the bank and barely scraping two officers. Human trafficking is too big."

"Look, I'm leaking it whether you approve or not," Zachariah says indignantly.

Ten minutes later, Sam looks at the news and sees Crowley's mugshot with the headline 'HUMAN TRAFFICKER'.

**Sunday 1:49 PM  
51 hours  
12,800 kg  
$592 million**

Bela makes the hostages run the printers 24/7 because every time they stop, they lose half a million dollars and she can't have that. They work in shifts at different stations each time so they can stretch their legs. There are technical adjustments made every three hours to make sure they run with no problems. They're already running a little bit over the normal printing rate but she is earning herself and the others sixteen million dollars an hour, which means three hundred and eighty-four million dollars a day. In the event that they become pressed for time, she had consulted with Chuck before -- they will increase the output rate by two million per hour (making it eighteen million instead of their regular sixteen) at the risk of equipment failure. However, she could counter that with increasing the technical stops instead.

Where Bela excels in ensuring perfect quality in the dollar notes she's producing, Crowley excels in maintaining the purity of the gold he's melting. It's an art, what they do. Since Bela doesn't always have to monitor the hostages at the machines, she visits Crowley sometimes. The setup they have is magnificent -- constructed are industrial extractors next to the antechamber in the vault door. The gases go through the machine and get liquified and the gold is moved along without atmospheric contamination. The gold is melted and then brought to a strainer where they get moulded into grains as small as rice.

Bela scoops a handful of gold grains with a gloved finger, marvelling at the sight. _Beautiful_. And hers in time.

She had to admit that having Kansas as a leader and planner worked well. No other robber has ever been so ambitious. Even Bela herself stuck to minimal security shops. Kansas's one actual heist and he goes for the big fish, and they've kept their position for three days which is way longer than she thought they could keep the Bank of America for. Extraordinary.

"This is amazing," she marvels, dropping the grains back into the sack that's almost full. She steps out of the way of Garth Fitzgerald III and Cole Trenton, Dallas's friends who arrived to help with the gold, as they carry a small vat of glowing melted gold to go into the strainer behind her. "All this gold, in these grains."

Crowley smiles, stopping at her side, "Indeed. It's almost too much money."

"It's unbelievable, but not excessive," Bela counters. "You can never have too much money."

The door opens and in comes Kansas. Crowley looks about ready to greet him with a quip until they both realise that it's not the time. Crowley asks instead, "What's wrong?"

"You need to see the news," Kansas only says.

That's where the day begins to go to shit. Kansas brings them into a small room where Salem and Rome are already there, watching the television. Crowley slows to a stop and freezes when he sees his name flash across the screen with 'HUMAN TRAFFICKER' slapped next to it. Kansas turns off the television once the reporter begins to discuss it and he says, "I know it looks bad."

"Looks bad?" Crowley says, staring at the blank screen. "They're calling me a bloody human trafficker!"

Salem shrinks back at his raised voice.

"I know! I know what they're calling you. We know it's not true, we just need to convince the public it's not," Kansas says, putting both hands on Crowley's shoulders to calm him. "I promise you, Berlin. I will get you your reputation back. I just need time. Will you give that to me?"

Crowley takes in a deep breath but eventually nods. "You better fix this."

"I think this is their attempt to save themselves after the whole Jack Kline dilemma," Rome says. "We just need to strike back with something bigger. Prove it's not true or sell them as assholes again."

It sounded easy at the time when Rome put it like that. It really sounded so easy.

Dean has a plan. It's a time-consuming plan, but if it means getting the police's most valuable player off the field for as long as possible, he will take that opportunity. After the police ravaged Crowley's reputation like that, they lost their footing on the ladder a little bit, but that doesn't necessarily mean they can't still get to the top.

He assembles most of the hostages (not including the ones in the office who require medication, Frank, Abaddon and the security team, or the ones working on the money printing and false escape route) and lines up thick rolls of unused banknote paper kept in storage. Once everything is in order, Angeles and Meg begin firing rounds from M-16 guns into the paper rolls and London orders the hostages to scream as loud as they can.

On the outside, it'll sound like a bloodbath. On the inside, completely harmless. But of course, there are no cameras in the bank -- at least, none the police can access since they're on analogue -- which means that the only way to find out if everyone is alive is by coming into the bank and checking for themselves or trust the robbers to deliver reliable proof of life.

Of course, not even five minutes after the sound show, Dean returns to the governor's office to get a call from Sam who demands, "What the hell are you doing in there?"

"Relax. We're just testing out some guns. Not jammed at all, everything's good," Dean answers, playing it off as nothing. It really is nothing but that's not what the police think.

"I want proof of life sent over within the next hour," Sam says. "This isn't a game, Kansas. We will go in with full artillery if even one hostage is hurt."

Dean grins and offers instead, "I can do you one better, Inspector. I give you the chance to come in and check proof of life for each hostage in the flesh. The only condition is that you are the one to come in. I won't open the bank doors for anyone else. So what is it going to be?"

**Sunday, 4:40 PM  
54 hours  
14,000 kg  
$640 million  
**

The inspector walks into the bank, the doors sliding shut behind him. There are some hostages already lined up with masks and guns, urging him deeper into the bank. Meg greets him, her mask hung on her arm, "Welcome back, Nurse Winchester. Sorry, _Inspector_."

Sam knows he's been caught but he says instead, looking at Castiel, "You're Angeles, right?"

"Correct. Kansas sends his apologies. He's busy," Castiel replies. With Crowley up here, Kansas has taken over his duties of managing the gold. Castiel knows Kansas has been itching to get his hands on the gold, so he's sure he's revelling in his temporary position there. It's better if he and Kansas are stationed at different places anyway after last night. Distance is better. Sam looks irritated at Kansas slipping out of his fingers again but says nothing in response to that. Castiel orders, "Vegas, search him."

Meg does, and she pulls out a (frankly) poorly hidden microphone. She waves it in his face obnoxiously, "Did you even try?"

Sam tries to insist, "That's not for spying purposes. They need that to make sure I'm unharmed."

Castiel takes the microphone from Meg and says into it, "Rest assured that he is in good hands for as long as he is here, and we promise his safe return. Even if we want to kill him, you would hear gunshots. He'll be fine." With that, he drops the microphone to the ground and crushes it under his black boot. Sam watches painfully as the small device is destroyed and Castiel guides him to the main hall that has been emptied out, leaving nothing but two chairs. Meg and Crowley are waiting there as the hostages at the entrance are moved somewhere else, a makeshift waiting room. Castiel sits in one of the chairs, gesturing to the one next to him for Sam to sit.

Meg grins, wide like a Cheshire cat, and says, "Hey, nurse. Did you get promoted?"

Sam doesn't bother answering, just sitting next to Castiel. Crowley asks disdainfully, "Whose idea was it to lie about me?"

"Not mine," Sam mutters, looking at Castiel. "Where are the hostages?"

"Salem, Rome, bring the hostages out," Castiel calls out. Salem and Rome emerge, bringing Bess Myers out with them.

Sam's face pales slightly and he clarifies, "Are we doing this one by one?"

"Because you care about the hostages so much, Kansas thought it would be good to give you the chance to check each and every hostage. You wouldn't want to miss anyone on accident," Castiel delivers practised lines.

Sam protests, "I don't have all day."

"This is the only way we will do it. After your stunt with Jack, I'm doubtful that you want to have 'has more important things than getting proof of life' on the list as well," Crowley snaps.

Sam finally sighs, giving up, and he has a short talk with each hostage that comes out. He asks after their wellness and if they're injured. If they have sufficient supplies and any complaints. Most of them say that the robbers leave them alone and do their own work and that they get supplies if they need them.

When Rome and Salem leave to get the next hostage, Castiel asks, "Are you ready to face the children you subjected to staying here?" Sam feels his soul cave in on itself -- he hadn't even realised he would have to talk to them.

He says weakly, "It wasn't my voice on the recording. It wasn't my decision. I wanted to free ten, not one."

"They're _teenagers_. You think they care about the specifics?" Meg asks, unimpressed. "A pig's a pig to them. And to me."

Jesse Turner doesn't answer any of his questions, just giving him a silent glare that is sure to haunt Sam's nightmares tonight. Ben Braeden and Channing Ngo are quiet in a different way; no anger in it, just disappointment, and it's somehow worse than Jesse's. Kevin Tran's answers are short and snippy. Kaia Nieves, Alex Jones and Patience Turner are polite but in the way that it's obviously just for show. Aidan flips him off and walks away before Sam can ask him anything. Josephine Barnes gives him a speech about how Jack is no more important than every other hostage in the bank. Krissy Chambers calls him a son of a bitch cop.

Castiel is quietly impressed by some of the kids' honesty, and a little sympathetic to the way they feel. It's definitely not a good feeling to have the police pick your friend over you. Once Krissy is sent off and Salem and Rome leave to bring another hostage, Sam is clearly exhausted, running a hand over his face and sighing deeply. Crowley notifies them, "The governor and the security team left."

"I'll prepare the governor," Castiel says. "Watch our dear inspector."

Castiel leaves the main hall and Sam is now alone with Crowley and Meg. Neither robber says anything to Sam, to his relief. In the pin-drop silence, Sam can hear the quiet whirring of the machines working and then he realises it. He's been here for two hours just to check proof of life. _Two hours for proof of life_. That's two hours that investigation will never get back, two hours he has been off the field and two hours that they have been continuing to print money. Two hours that translates to another thirty-two million dollars, and two hours that translates to the fact that Sam has lost once more.

He curses inwardly as Castiel brings out the governor. And even though Sam can't see the look on his face, he just knows there's a shit-eating smile under it.

Jody had heard from Sam about his long-lost half-brother, recently reunited three days prior. She heard about how he had stories about John Winchester and how Sam had an older brother he never told her about before named Dean who he was sure was dead after his disappearance when Dean was 19. And she had seen him once, briefly, when he came into the tent with a call for Sam from Jess.

She sees Adam watching the news in the diner near the bank, sipping on coffee. She slips into the seat next to him, asking, "You're Adam Winchester, right?"

Adam turns back, surprised. "Uh, Milligan. I don't go by... Do I know you --" He snaps his fingers in recollection, "You were in the tent! I think I saw you on the news too, deputy inspector Mills?"

"That's me," she confirms, ordering a coffee-to-go. "You came in from Minnesota, huh? Heard from Sam."

"Yeah, saw him on the news, thought I'd come and meet my brother," Adam says, giving her a half-smile. There's a boyish charm to it but it struck Jody as a false pretence. The barista gives her her coffee and Adam asks, "I heard the gunshots, are the hostages okay?"

"They're fine, Sam's checking proof of life," Jody says, beginning to grow wary. There are people who have told her she's a little paranoid, but her gut instinct has never been wrong. Adam isn't as innocent as he's showing himself to be. "Sorry, but I have to go back to the bank."

Adam nods in understanding, saying, "Sure thing. Maybe I'll see you sometime. Preferably not in the tent, right?"

It's meant to be a joke, but Jody's chuckle is dry and she waves, turning away. On her walk back, she ran through her head basic facts:

  * Adam coincidentally showed up on the first day of the heist.
  * Adam entered the tent and saw their complete set-up for the heist.
  * Adam is somehow always near the bank.
  * Before Sam's microphone was crushed in the bank, a robber called Angeles said Kansas was busy and couldn't be there, and Adam is here in the café.



_Adam is Kansas_ , the revelation hits Jody hard, and she hurries back to the tent, hoping that Sam is back by then.

**Sunday, 6:30 PM  
56 hours  
13,600 kg  
$672 million  
**

When it hits hour fifty-six of their residence in the bank and Berlin checks on him, Benny pokes his head out of the hole in the floor to lift a raised fist. Berlin frowns, pointing at his hand, "What are you doing?" Benny opens his fist and dirt crumbles through his fingers.

"We're going to get out of here, Berlin," Benny declares. A grin splits across Berlin's face instantly and he walks over, kneeling and touching the dirt himself. Benny is well ahead of schedule. Dirt is a lot faster to dig through than steel and reinforced concrete. The twenty-two feet of it won't be that hard to finish.

"Finally, something going right!" Berlin cheers. It doesn't take long for Berlin to call the others, and when Kansas arrives with Angeles, it becomes a full-blown celebration. At some point, while Kansas digs his hands into the dirt to throw it in joy, the radio Benny had for company as he dug starts playing _Bella Ciao_.

“ _Una mattina mi sono alzato_ ,” they all sang happily, tossing dirt around the vault and soiling their hands. “ _Bella ciao, bella ciao, bella ciao ciao ciao!_ ”Even London, who’s normally more particular about making her hands filthy, is picking up handfuls of soil and laughing. She announces that they have hit six hundred, seventy-two million dollars as of 6:30 PM. Berlin adds on that they’ve melted thirteen thousand and six hundred kilograms of gold -- one thousand, seven hundred and sixty-eight ingots -- and they all lose it, singing and laughing as Bella Ciao plays in their celebration.

It's the happiest everyone in the bank had been since arriving. Happiness, unfortunately, comes hand in hand with bliss, which comes with oblivion.

_Adam is Kansas. Adam is Kansas. Adam is Kansas._

He didn't want to believe it but it made complete sense with everything Jody pointed out to him. He did randomly show up the same day the Dali robbers did when he had so many other times to appear and everything else.

He called Adam to meet him at one of the apartments that he knows has been empty for a few weeks now, claiming that it's his own apartment as he clears it with the agent to use for one night. Adam agrees to meet him, of course. When he knocks on the door, Sam can't even process that Kansas is on the other side of the door, that Kansas has literally had coffee with him. That he was right in front of him the whole time and he had been too blind to realise it.

"Hey, Sam," Adam greets and Sam smiles tightly, stepping aside to let him in. Adam looks around the mostly empty apartment and his face begins to fall, realising something is deeply wrong, "Did you just move in or what?"

Without answering, Sam tackles Adam to the ground, slapping handcuffs onto his wrists and then hoisting him up onto a chair. Adam barely had time to react until Sam slams him down on the chair. When Adam gets his bearings, Sam says, "You're Kansas."

Adam stares at him blankly. "I'm not Kansas."

"Stop lying. It all makes sense. You came to me the same day they hijacked the bank, you're always near the bank, the whole bullshit story about my dad? Good Photoshop skills, you had me fooled," Sam scoffs, shaking his head as he paces the room. Adam gives him an incredulous look.

"I'm not lying, I _am_ John Winchester's son. The photo is real, I'm sure you know how to test it," Adam replies, disbelieving of how terribly blind Sam is to the whole thing. "Fine, I'm part of the heist. But I'm not Kansas. I'm Windom."

"Then who is Kansas?" Sam presses. " _Tell me_!"

"I swore never to tell, but you already know. You just need to accept it," Adam replies. "He picked Kansas for a reason. You know who this is."

 _Dean_. The name almost slaps Sam in the face with mocking. Sam shakes his head, "No. You're all using city names. Kansas is a _state_."

"Kansas is still a city in Missouri," Adam refutes.

"We didn't grow up in Missouri," Sam counters and Adam rolls his eyes.

He says, "Kansas is still Kansas! He picked that name for a reason! I'm never going to say who it is because you need to come to terms with it."

"For fuck's sake!" Sam bursts, kicking a chair. "Just tell me!"

"Tell yourself! You already know who Kansas is!" Adam shouts. Sam glares at him and picks up the chair, running his hands over his face. It's going to be a long night before he can drag an answer out of Adam. Maybe it's yet another tactic to keep him off the investigation for the next couple of hours but at the rate that it's going, Sam figures it will be no big loss to stay here if it means he might leave tonight with Kansas's identity. It's for the greater good, and it's not like he's the only cop on the case anyway.

"Fine. I'll wait," Sam says, sitting down opposite from Adam and crossing his arms.

**Sunday, 9:45 PM  
59 hours  
16,000 kg  
$720 million**

Chuck can't stand another minute in the bank.

He felt like he was being toyed with. Yes, the robbers made sure his wound wasn't infected and they took him off of tunnel digging duty after his gunshot wound so he could focus on recovery, but paranoia drove him up the wall. He came up with a scheme -- he had an escape planned. While Rome was gone doing God knows what, Chuck had taped dangerous tools from the tunnel under his coveralls and when Rome and Angeles returned, he asked to go to the bathroom.

There, in the privacy of the bathroom stall, he taped the tools to the lid of the toilet, careful to be silent so Rome wouldn't hear him. Earlier, he'd plotted with Gordon Walker for his grand escape plan, his attempt to be a saviour. Gordon will tape the tools to his body and bring them to some other hostages and they will use them as protection on their way out.

Knowing that she's well-liked among the hostages, Chuck asked Anael to spread the word about the escape plan and she promised she would.

He will go to the boiler room and meet up with Gordon and the other escaping hostages when the time comes, 9:45 PM. He manages to slip past Salem on guard duty and find his way to the room. Aidan lets him in, urging him to squat with them and hold his hands together as if he had handcuffs on. Chuck obeys, trying to make himself look small and insignificant.

"We're waiting for Rome to come with food," one of the hostages fills him in. It's then that Chuck notices Gordon behind the door with a metal pole, ready.

After fifteen minutes pass, Rome comes in holding a stack of pizza boxes and at first, he notices nothing, setting the boxes down on the floor. "I'll have drinks brought up in a bit but I have pizza for now --" He cuts himself off and does a double-take, eyes skating over all their wrists to realise that there is no glint of silver handcuffs. "Where the bloody hell are your bonds --"

A hard whack to the back of his head and Rome's vision goes black.

"They're escaping!" Paris shouts, running into the governor's office where Dean was with Meg, Salem and Angeles. "The hostages are escaping right now!"

"Salem, go get London and Dallas. Paris, you get Berlin and Rome," Dean orders. The two women immediately run off to get the other robbers and Dean picks up the phone, "Come on, Windom." He gets no response and Dean tries again, only to get the same result.

Meg presses, "We gotta play this one by ear, Kansas."

He hated to admit it but Meg was right. He only feared any casualties that can happen without their eye in the sky to guide them. Dean gives up, beckoning, "Angeles and Vegas, you're coming with me." They all prepare their rifles and file out of the office to do their respective jobs. Dean is about to leave the office when Angeles pulls him back.

"Wear a vest," Angeles demands to both of them, holding one out to him while he has a Kevlar vest half on his own body. Dean takes it from him and Angeles tosses another one to Meg. Once geared up, the three of them run down the hallway to find the runaway hostages before they can get to an exit point.

Gordon hoards the hostages to the loading zone where a C-4 unit rests on the door. Aidan asks, "How do we get past the bomb?"

"We're using it to get out of here," Gordon clarifies. He turns back to three hostages and commands, "Release Abaddon! The robbers are scared of her." They nod in affirmation and sprint away to get to her as Gordon turns back to the C-4 on the door of the landing zone.

"Are you sure this will work?" Chuck asks, cowering. He had decided to stay in the bank -- not all the hostages were there and he wants to stay and get the rest out another time. 

"If C-4 won't take down this door, they wouldn't put it up," Gordon reasons, lifting the gun and firing at the bomb. Chuck runs back into the bank to the main hall.

A loud explosion shakes the landing zone but the C-4 busts down the barrier. Gordon stumbles back from the impact, other hostages behind him catching him before he can fall, and they marvel at the door collapsing. They raise their arms, blinking against the smoke and Gordon shouts at the SWAT team, "We're hostages! Hostages! We need help!"

The SWAT officers lower their guns and a few are running over to help the hostages out, bringing those injured by the explosion to the waiting ambulances.

In the bank, the three hostages manage to find the room Abaddon and the guards are held in and they get to work on the handcuffs. One of them digs out a paperclip from a drawer and picks the lock on it until something in it clicks. The cuffs slip off Abaddon's wrists with ease.

Abaddon grins, flexing her vaguely sore wrists as the handcuffs clatter on the linoleum floor. "Thanks, boys." They wish her good luck, giving her a gun, and start running where they intend to escape and Abaddon follows, though she doesn't intend to leave. The other guards will be fine being left there -- it'd be suspicious if all five of them disappeared by morning. If only one was gone, she had a better chance of not getting caught too early.

She tails the hostages to the boiler room and her fingers graze the gun, lightly pushing open the door so it makes no sound.

A blonde man -- Rome, as she recalls his alias to be -- rubs his head, back facing her. She creeps into the room, pressing the barrel of the gun to the back of his head. Before Rome can react, she pulls the trigger and he collapses to the floor, blood trickling across the concrete. Abaddon smiles, bending down to wipe off stray drops of blood on the barrel on Rome's red coveralls before she leaves the room. She recalls promising death on two others; Angeles and Vegas.

The thing about Abaddon is that she always keeps her word, and about Rome: She liked to overachieve.

Dean, Angeles and Meg rendezvoused with the other robbers down the hall from the boiler room and before he can say anything, the ground shakes and they duck slightly in surprise. Dean asks, looking towards the landing zone, "It's the fucking C-4!"

"Go!" Angeles shouts, taking off down the hall as the other robbers follow him. They all pull their masks down and lift their rifles. Dallas kicks open the door and they watch as the last of the escaping hostages run out. Dean curses inwardly, raising up a fist to tell the Dalis to hold their fire.

Once the last of the hostages are taken by the paramedics, the SWAT team starts to move in on them. Dean opens his fist and they begin shooting, only aiming above heads, at shields, or at the legs so as to avoid fatal injury. They've lost enough public favour. At least their riot gear is protective enough against their bullets.

It escalates really quickly, almost too quickly, and Dean is a little overwhelmed at the amount of noise and bullets flying around between the hole in the wall. 

"Fuck! Where's Rome?" Paris shouts over the rapid gunfire, ducking behind a shelf. Dallas and Salem shoot at the SWAT officers and Dean, Crowley and London try to find something to prop the steel sheet up, still firing as well. Meg and Angeles fire at them from behind a mini barricade.

"We'll look for him later!" Meg replies. "London, Berlin, bolts!" The two of them start looking for drills and bolts and the others cover them from the SWAT team's gunfire.

Dean stands to get a better angle until he feels a bullet hit him. He goes down, groaning, his rifle shots drawing a dotted line up the wall. He vaguely sees Angeles look over and shout, "Cover me! I'm going to check on Kansas!"

The robbers start shooting faster at SWAT as Angeles bends to crawl behind the barricades, moving as fast as he can to Dean's side. He pulls Dean behind a shelf and lifts up both their masks to get a better look. It's a little bit comforting to have Angeles's warm hand pressed to his face and Dean's fingers graze his.

"Kansas, can you hear me?"

"Mhmm."

Salem drops to her knees next to them, asking loudly over the gunfire, "Is he okay?"

"He's fine, the kevlar stopped the bullet!" Angeles answers, hand still on Dean's face. "You stay here and watch Kansas. I --" Before Angeles can finish firing off orders, Dean's eyes widen when he sees small objects being thrown into the landing zone, emitting smoke.

"Grenades," Dean warns weakly as he lifts the hand on Angeles's to point at them.

Angeles's eyes snap over to them and he starts running towards the grenades, shouting, "Paris! _The grenades_!" Paris hears him and jumps over the barricade as he does, each of them grabbing one of the two grenades and throwing it out of the landing zone. They explode just outside the building in mid-air and the gunfire eases up a little as the SWAT turn away from the explosions. Thankfully, it doesn't seem like they're injured. They're in riot gear, for God's sake.

Dean hauls himself off his ass with Salem's help and he raises his rifle, joining in the shooting. With the SWAT team slightly slowed down by the grenades, Dean calls out, "Angeles!" He doesn't hear him this time, still shooting, and Dean tries again, "Angeles! _Angel_!" That grabs Angeles's attention and he looks over with wide eyes. Dean commands, "Angeles, the machine gun! Everyone cover him in three, two, one!"

The robbers start their quickened pace of shooting as Angeles runs to the back, finding the machine gun. He pushes it to the front of the big hole in the wall, lifting the tarp off the Browning machine gun and aiming it. Angeles shouts, "Dallas, Berlin, get the sheet back up when they start falling back! Ready?" The two of them get over the barricade and grab each side of the fallen sheet, nodding to him. Angeles begins firing the machine gun and they hear the SWAT team yelling that it's a machine gun and to fall back.

The moment SWAT's gunfire begins to wean off, Dallas and Crowley push the sheet upwards. Dean shouts as loud as he can, "Salem, London, Paris, get the drills, secure the sheet to the wall! Vegas, Angeles, the supports!" They get moving immediately. Salem, London and Paris start drilling bolts through the sheet's sides into the wall and Angeles and Vegas grab the support bars, pushing them up against the wall as Dean puts stoppers under them. Salem moves away from the wall and bolts the stoppers into the ground.

When they're sure the wall won't move and there is no more gunfire on the other side, they all finally relax, catching their breath. Angeles instantly moves to Dean's side, supporting him. Dean assures, "I'm good, I'm good."

"Thank God for Kevlar," Angeles sighs, touching the vest. "I need to get this off you."

"Take me out on a date first, at least," Dean jokes, though he winces when Angeles tries to get the vest off him.

Angeles rolls his eyes, "To make sure you're not badly injured." Dean cooperates, helping get the vest off. Luckily, it was a considerably far range bullet so he'll probably only have a bad bruise. Good enough for Dean. Angeles checks once more, "Are you okay?" 

Dean wheezes but nods anyway. "I'm fine. Come on, we need to look for Rome. He could be in trouble." He looks at the other robbers, asking, "Anyone know where he was last stationed?"

"I think he was bringing food to the boiler room," Salem answers, ensuring that the bolts won't come off overnight. Dean nods and he and Angeles exit the landing zone, hearts beating loudly with adrenaline and shock.

The two of them get their guard back up once they're out of the landing zone and back in the bank. There is an eerieness to it with all those hostages gone. Dean asks, "How many do you think got out?"

Angeles shrugs, lifting his rifle as he answers, "Rome had sixteen in the boiler room for the fake escape tunnel. Might be sixteen, might be more." He shakes the M-16 rifle a little and frowns, "We'll all need to reload after that."

Dean nods in agreement and says hesitantly, making a turn into another hallway, "You picked Los Angeles because someone called you Angel."

Angeles pauses and turns to look at him. "How did you know?"

"I called you angel and you responded instantly," Dean answers, lowering his rifle. "Just a guess. Who was it?"

"My mother," Angeles says quietly. "She named us after angels... She was big on that kind of thing. Prayed before every meal. I don't know how much I believe in God but it helps sometimes."

"You had that crucifix necklace," Dean says. Angeles wore it most days back when they were studying for the heist.

Angeles frowns and reconsiders, peering into a room. "I think I believe in Him... I suppose I'm not sure how much He believes in us."

Dean decides that Angeles probably doesn't want to talk about it with the way his shoulders tense up and says, "You check the boiler room, I'll go look in the other room."

Castiel splits off from Kansas down the hallway with the boiler room. Though he didn't show it, he'd been terrified when he saw Kansas go down after getting hit. He didn't even want to think about if he hadn't asked Kansas to wear the Kevlar vest before they went after the runaway hostages. He didn't even know when his care became less about the plan and more about Kansas himself.

He pushes the door to the boiler room open with the tip of his boot, slowly, and turns quickly. "Rome?"

Castiel looks around with his rifle raised. With so many escaped hostages, he couldn't risk being uncareful. He checks behind himself again -- nobody down the hall. He twists back to enter the boiler room. Glancing around, it's empty, and Balthazar lays on the ground, blood pooling around his head. Castiel almost drops his rifle when he falls to his knees next to him. "Rome! _Balthazar_!"

A single gunshot wound is in the centre of the back of his head. Balthazar's eyes are still open and Castiel felt himself getting sick at the sight. Tears fall off his cheeks and he didn't even realise that his vision was getting blurred. He barely flinches when a hand touches his shoulder.

"Who shot him?" Salem gasps from behind him. Castiel is made aware that the hand on his shoulder is Kansas's.

"Probably one of the hostages," Dallas mumbles, supported by Meg.

Castiel uses a hand and drags it gently down Balthazar's face, closing his eyes and staining his fingers crimson and cries. Kansas is quiet, only pulling Castiel to his chest as he cries and cries.

**Sunday, 10:30 PM**   
**60 hours**   
**16,400 kg**   
**$736 million**

Sam sends Jody, Victor and Zachariah to voicemail, unwilling to pick up any calls while Adam is here. "Look, man. Just tell me who the hell Kansas really is."

"You already know! Just accept it, Sam," Adam snaps, finally at his limits about his capture. "This is illegal, you keeping me here."

"Oh yeah? Then what are you doing in the bank?" Sam fires back. Adam is silent at that, cocking his head momentarily in a "you got me there" way. Sam sits down across from Adam and says, "Tell me who Kansas is and I'll let you go. I won't even turn you in. You barely did anything anyway, you're hardly involved in the heist. Just tell me."

"Think about it, for fuck's sake!" Adam explodes. "He always sent Angeles the two times you visited the bank! Your last name made him speechless! He didn't leave in your input in the recording we leaked about Jack Kline's release! His name is _Kansas_! You already know who he is!"

" _Shut up_!" Sam cracks, slamming a hand down on the table. "Shut the fuck up! He died!"

Adam grits his teeth, hands balling into fists against the handcuffs. "You never got the official news that he died! Deep down, you always knew he was alive the whole time. Just accept it!"

"Dean is dead!" Sam cries, unable to stop tears from rolling down his cheeks.

"Dean is _alive_!" Adam spat, glare deep. "Dean Winchester is _alive_!"

Sam stands up abruptly, inhaling sharply and burying his face in his hands through shuddering breaths. Adam exhales heavily, saying, "I can call him."

Sam stares at him before pulling out his phone, asking, "Can you do it from here?"

"I can only do it from my base," Adam mutters, shrugging as he can't lift his handcuffed wrists.

It takes ten minutes for Sam to free Adam and drive them to Adam's hideout. It's a shoddy and dark place, with a table loaded with computers, wires and a single telephone on it. Sam lets Adam call Dean and after a few seconds, Adam says, "Sam's here and he wants to talk to you." He presses a button to make the phone turn on speaker mode and clicks on one of the boxes on the screen to blow up the image -- two Dalís in the governor's office, one of them holding the telephone and the other holding a rifle. Though the footage is black and white, their hands are darkened.

Sam takes the phone and says tentatively, "Dean?"

The Dalí freezes in his spot before a hand moves to take the mask off. He looks up at the camera and Sam almost cries again. "Hey, Sammy." The other Dalí looks over as if surprised but doesn't remove his own mask, just staring at Dean.

"Dean, what the fuck is going on?" Sam exhales, sitting in the chair that Adam drags over. "I thought you died."

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean says, sounding defeated and tired.

Adam frowns as he squints at the computer, asking, "Dean, what's wrong? What's on your hands?"

Dean answers heavily, "Sixteen hostages escaped and Rome is dead." Adam's mouth falls open and he's rendered completely speechless. It becomes so achingly quiet that though he didn't know Rome, even Sam could felt the weight of their grief over him. Dean continues, "We found him in the boiler room. They must have shot him when they were escaping. Where were you, man?"

"He was with me," Sam answers. "Dean, I'm so sorry about Rome."

"We all are, Sam," Dean says solemnly. The other Dalí -- Sam recognises his gait and build to be Angeles -- stands next to Dean, and Dean's hand comes up to hold his. "We all are."


	4. DAY FOUR

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning:  
> Grief  
> Death threat (that doesn't go through)  
> Bad injury by gun, blood  
> Mentions of death possibility (no actual death)  
> Breakdown

**6 months ago**

"I can't sleep."

"And Kansas is already asleep so you're here," Balthazar says flatly, sitting up in his bed to see Angeles. He's dressed in a loose T-shirt of some American cartoon and polka-dotted shorts. A fashion disaster, but acceptable since nobody will be exposed to the horror of his nightwear. He sighs at Angeles's innocent expression and lifts up one side of his duvet, "Come on."

Angeles closes the door behind him and goes to lie down next to Balthazar. After four months of knowing each other, the two had grown considerably close. Obviously, the "no personal relations" rule Kansas imposed didn't mean shit to any of them, not even Kansas himself, apparently. Balthazar and the others all knew about Kansas and Angeles's oddly endearing attachment to each other. Once Angeles is settled in nicely next to him, he says, "My name is Castiel."

"Balthazar," he instantly returns the favour.

Castiel looks over and smiles, "That's a biblical name."

"In some contexts," Balthazar shrugs. "Why are you telling me your name?"

"I felt like telling someone and Kansas wasn't awake," Angeles answers, looking up at the ceiling.

Balthazar scoffs, pressing a hand to his chest like he's offended, "So I was just second choice? How rude."

Castiel rolls his eyes, placating, "I would have told you eventually either way. You just happened to be the only one awake." Balthazar nods once, feigning his being unconvinced which makes Castiel chuckle in amusement. After a few moments pass, Castiel provides context, "I have a really bad feeling about the heist."

"Talk to me," Balthazar says, sitting up against the headboard and gesturing for Castiel to do the same. "Your worries are my worries. What do you mean you have a bad feeling?"

Castiel sighs but gets up anyway, leaning on the headboard. "I have the odd feeling that something is going to go horribly wrong when we're there... I can't seem to shake it. I keep running through the plan in my mind, the parts of it that we have learned so far, and it's immaculate. I can't find any fault. But as clever as Kansas is, nobody can plan for everything and I suppose that's where my worry lies. I can't imagine what could go wrong; it could be a million things. But in the event that I die, I would like someone to know my real name... so I can die as Castiel and not as Los Angeles."

Balthazar nods slowly, understanding Castiel's concerns, and asks, "Do you have a last name to give me, then? Just 'Castiel' alone won't do on a casket."

"Novak," Castiel answers. "And you?"

"Freely," Balthazar says.

Castiel smiles as he commits it to memory. "What do you think the others' names are?"

"London's would be something fancy, I'm sure," Balthazar grins, contemplating. "Like Odette."

Castiel shakes his head, "I always thought she would be a Victoria." Balthazar raises his eyebrows a little bit as he thinks about the name, nodding in agreement. Victoria did fit better than Odette. "I bet Berlin has a really strange name. I don't think we could ever guess it."

"Constantine," Balthazar suggests.

"I could see it starting with a 'C'," Castiel chuckles. "But it's probably something stupid like Leopold or Napoleon."

"Paris... maybe Anastasia," Balthazar continues. "Salem would have an innocent name like Emma or Zoe."

"I could see Vegas being a Natasha and Dallas as a Steve or Heath," Castiel guesses.

" _Heath_?" Balthazar echoes, appalled.

"What?" Castiel says defensively. "Forget it. What about Windom?"

Balthazar grins, "Something simple. John, Adam, Chris."

"Tom, Dick or Harry," Castiel says flatly, pulling a laugh out from Balthazar. He asks, "What do you think Kansas's name is?"

"Harrison," Balthazar says decisively.

Castiel frowns, shaking his head again, "No, it has to be something sexy."

"Damn, sexier than _Heath_?"

Castiel just laughs, standing and getting off the bed. "What if his name is uglier than Kansas?"

Balthazar looks at him conspiratorially, teasing, "Are your standards for a boyfriend really that high?"

"They're not _that_ unreachable, Kansas isn't that far from --" Castiel cuts himself off and narrows his eyes at Balthazar. "You think you're slick."

"I know I am," Balthazar smiles, wide and smug. "But it must be something plain."

"Jason," Castiel suggests.

"Tom," Balthazar throws out.

"Eric."

"David."

Castiel slices a hand through the air, saying, "Okay, stop. This is ridiculous. None of these is right."

"Dan," Balthazar guesses again, ignoring him. "I feel it. I'm close. Daniel. Damon. Dean. Dylan."

"All wrong, I'm sure," Castiel rolls his eyes. "I'm going back to my room. Sleep well."

**Monday, 8:20 AM** **  
69 hours  
20,000 kg  
$880 million**

It's never easy to lose a friend because nobody is really sure what to do once they're gone.

It has been a long night -- especially long for Castiel, who didn't sleep for one second. After sending Paris, London and Salem to watch the hostages, he, Kansas, Dallas and Meg found a large crate to keep him in as a makeshift casket. Meg found them paint in a storage closet to write his name on the sides. Dallas paints a large 'ROME' on one side.

Kansas exhales lightly, watching the black letters seep through the cheap wood, and says, "Times like this I wish I knew his name."

"Balthazar Freely," Castiel mumbles. Kansas looks surprised like he hadn't expected people to have been telling each other their real names. Dallas hesitates before passing the paint can and brush to Castiel. He takes it from him and kneels down next to the wooden box, slowly painting 'BALTHAZAR FREELY' on the other empty side.

All nine of them have a moment of silence together for Balthazar before Dallas and Kansas move the casket to one of the empty offices. It's better than leaving it in the warm storage basement. After that, even with aching hearts, they had to split and get back to work so his death wasn't in vain, but it was clear nobody was in the mood.

Kansas had instructed them not to let the hostages know about the sixteen escaped ones. They were unaware, thinking the gunfire was just them doing their strange antics like when they asked them to scream as they shot thick rolls of banknote paper and Paris didn't spread the word on the escape like Chuck asked her to do. He knew it'll make them less cooperative, so keeping them in the dark will be best. They all agreed.

Castiel is on guard duty for the morning before he'll go down to the safes to work on the tunnels with Dallas. He planned to maybe get a breather in the quiet main hall where Kansas and Paris were guarding the hostages too. However, the moment he saw Chuck, it all went out the window once he recalled Paris telling them that he planned the violent escape.

He walks up to Chuck and asks in a low voice, "Why Rome?"

"I'm -- I'm sorry, sir?" Chuck says, voice wobbling slightly. Being taller, Castiel loomed over Chuck a little bit and it served in his favour.

"Why _him_?" Castiel shouts. "Of all of us, why him? He was one of the ones who didn't do anything! He never did anything to you!"

"I didn't kill him," Chuck says, voice small with fear. The other hostages watch with wide eyes and bated breaths, scared of what's happening. Nobody has ever seen Castiel like this, not even the other robbers. As of right now, he's completely unpredictable to every single person in the bank and despite how scary that may seem to the hostages in retrospect, Castiel can't stop. Even with Paris and Kansas approaching in the corner of his eyes, he can't stop.

"But _you_ started this," Castiel accuses. "You started the mutiny, you gave them the weapons, you got them a fucking gun, for God's sake!"

"I didn't give them a gun, I swear! I don't even know where you keep the real ones!" Chuck defends, beginning to tear up. Castiel grits his teeth, more angry and hateful than anyone has known him to be, and Kansas begins to move closer in case things escalate. Paris moves the hostages to the next hall.

"Angeles, calm down," Kansas says, holding a hand out to him, placating.

"Do you know how he felt?" Castiel suddenly raises his pistol at Chuck and Kansas quickly grabs his wrist, angling the gun away.

"Angeles! Angel, _stop_!"

Castiel fights against Kansas's hold, pointing the gun at Chuck again, "Rome is fucking _dead_! Gun to his head! Do you know how that feels like?"

"If you kill Chuck then we're _all_ dead!" Kansas says, stepping in between Castiel and Chuck who cowers behind him. "I know you're hurting! I am too, we're all hurting, we all miss him! Believe me, I wish Rome's killer will get what they deserve but you _can't_ do this."

His pistol trembles with erratic grief before it's finally lowered and Castiel falls into Kansas's arms, weeping. "He didn't deserve to die."

"I know, Angel, I know," Kansas tries his best to comfort, hugging Castiel close. Chuck takes this as his cue to run back to the other hostages, leaving Kansas and Castiel rocking back and forth as they feel their sorrow eat them up inside.

Dean knows they need help. One man is dead and nothing in his plan had prepared him for fatalities, especially on his side of the fight for the Bank of America. He needed to bring people into the bank to help -- get the exit done faster, help split the work and cover more ground so they can leave earlier.

He hadn't even had time to properly think about the fact that the inspector on their case knows who he is and could turn him in any moment. He only knew that he hasn't lost yet and they still have control of the bank, which means no matter what, they're still winning. It doesn't matter if Sam had the identity of infamous Kansas. It's useless information. They can't do anything to him if they can't get in.

Other than that, the other robbers were beginning to get antsy after the loss of Balthazar. He knows they're concerned and perhaps even a little bit scared at the idea of being the next one in a wooden crate with a city name on the side. He's sure they're off telling each other their real names so they won't have to die as a city. Even Crowley, Meg and Dallas, who are some of the emotionally stronger people of the team, seem jittery.

Angeles has a wall of steel up, being as good a co-leader as he can muster himself to be after Balthazar, but Dean knows he's losing his grip on that. It's only a matter of time before Angeles breaks or worse, and Dean doesn't want to imagine losing Angeles. He's too important; to the heist, to the other robbers, to him.

So the most important thing now is getting help so Dallas can pick up speed with the tunnel.

Two robbers; one who's apparently Salem's girlfriend and one who's fresh out of jail. Both are skilled thieves and Dean just needs assistance. To get them in, they won't be able to do it quietly. There's SWAT at every entrance and snipers watch the skies. The next best thing after sneaking people in is to do it with as much attention as possible.

He gathers most of the robbers in the office to tell them their new plan -- throw one of them out and turn them in, to the police. Have them insist on testifying only in court, and then Dean has a team of people Adam helped contact to bust them out on the drive there. Five people including the two who will enter the bank alongside the one they turn in. It's risky, and the plan entirely belongs to the one out of jail. He probably shouldn't have approved a plan so reckless but it's the only plan they have that they can actually do.

"We need to pick someone to throw out," Dean throws out the discussion to the rest. "Dallas, Berlin, Angeles, London and Salem are off-limits because we need to keep the operations going here. Paris and Vegas, either of you up? Or do you want to switch duties with someone else?"

Meg shrugs, "Fine, I'll do it. But you better get me back in here soon."

"I'll have you back by today," Dean promises. "Just tell them you'll only testify today in court. I'll do the rest."

Twenty minutes later and Meg is handcuffed and shoved out of the bank, the door slamming shut behind her.

"There's eight of them," Aaron Bass says. "Kansas was the leader and Angeles was like second-in-command or something. He had pull when Kansas wasn't there."

After the hostages escaped, Zachariah roped them into an interrogation about the Dalís despite Sam requesting that they give them more time to recover. So far, they have more information than Sam had gotten before:

  * Eight robbers -- Kansas (first-in-command, Dean Winchester, identity unknown to the rest of the police), Angeles (second-in-command), Vegas (Meg Masters), Berlin (Crowley MacLeod), London, Dallas (who's never around), Salem and Rome (directed them to dig something, now deceased).
  * They've set up base in Frank Devereaux's office.
  * They're using mostly M-16 rifles, other than regular pistols and the Browning machine gun they used in the landing zone last night, but this was already known.
  * They're making an escape tunnel from the boiler room area but it's unclear if they will continue working on that after Rome's demise and all the worker hostages gone.



Other than figuring out how many robbers there actually are and a tunnel that's likely now abandoned, they were still pretty much at square one which frustrated Sam. And Adam is still in that apartment...

A bunch of SWAT officers suddenly come into the tent, sitting a woman down on a chair -- Meg Masters. She grins, "Hey, nurse."

"Why is she here?" Sam questions, standing up and leaving Aaron.

"I wanted a bigger cut of the money. They weren't all that jazzed about the idea and threw me out," Meg says, rolling her eyes. "Can you blame me? That's a lot of fucking money."

"Then you'll want to leak some information about them to us," Zachariah says, moving closer. With the revelation last night that Kansas is not Adam Milligan but Dean, Sam wondered if Meg knew he found out who Kansas is. Why would they throw someone out if she could destroy the whole operation?

"Wait. How much money have you printed by now?" Sam asks.

Meg answers easily, "Eight hundred and eighty million when I got kicked. I can tell you much more than that but if I'm gonna be a rat, I'm gonna be a smart one. I'm only testifying in court. Take that as a treat of what's to come."

Sam and Zachariah exchange glances and Zachariah says, "We can have you transferred to court tomorrow morning."

"I change my mind very quickly, boys. One day offer," Meg counters. "I'll spill it all if you get me to court by tonight. Who knows if those Dalís are gonna paint their next piece with my blood?"

Zachariah fixes Meg with a severe stare, thinking about if the Dalí robbers could really do anything to Meg before tonight. He determines that underestimating them is too great a gamble, ordering, "Someone get transport to transfer her to the court!"

Meg watches them leave the tent with an expression that remains indecipherable.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Sam asks once they're outside.

Zachariah gawks at him like he's stupid. "All we've done is underestimate them and they keep getting the upper hand. I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. If sending her to court today is what it'll take then I'm doing it."

Sam nods, still unsure about their move, and says, "Listen, I'll be back in a couple of hours. I need to run an errand." Zachariah waves him off and Sam hails a taxi to go back to the rented apartment and check with Adam on why Meg is really there.

When he reaches the apartment, the door is ajar, and Adam is gone.

Dean brings a small portion of the supplies for the day to the room where the guards are held, the events from last night and this morning still fresh in his mind. Of course, he knew Angeles was going to be heavily affected by it but he hadn't thought he would try to take it out on Chuck. He'd sent Angeles off to work alternatively on the tunnel with Dallas and the gold with Crowley for the rest of the day, deciding that keeping him away from the hostages while he was this upset is best.

He wishes he knew how to make Angeles feel better. He'd never been quite so upset during their one year before the heist so it's not like Dean is an expert on Angeles 101. But he could just put some distance between him and the guy who planned the mutiny. It'll have to do for now until they can get out and give Balthazar a proper funeral that isn't in a shitty storage basement.

He opens the door and says, turning to close it after himself, "Here's your food and water for the day, let me know if you want more." He looks back at them and pauses, feeling like something is gravely wrong. 

He counts four heads and counts again.

"Wait, there's only four..." Dean trails off, getting a sinking feeling.

"You should watch out," one of the guards says, the warning surprisingly seemingly well-intentioned that it's somehow scarier than if the guard was taunting him. "They cut her loose last night and gave her a gun."

Dean feels everything crumble down around him and he curses loudly, running out of the room. "Angeles!"

Angeles meets him halfway, looking alarmed. "What?"

"Abaddon is out, some hostages freed her last night and armed her," Dean explains, watching the colour drain from Angeles's face. "Chuck and the hostages didn't kill Rome, she did."

**Monday, 3:00 PM**   
**76 hours  
22,800 kg  
$992 million**

Even with Abaddon now known to all the robbers that she's prowling the bank, as long as she's not showing herself, she's not their biggest concern. Despite every part of Dean knowing that she has become their biggest enemy as of yesterday, they can't deal with what's not there, so until she appears, they have to do everything else and number one on his to-do list is getting Meg out of the police vehicle on her way to the court. Paris had seen her being sent off in the truck an hour ago and since then, Dean had sent out his helpers.

Santiago, actually identity unknown to Dean, a man fresh out of jail after wrongful imprisonment. Dorothy Baum AKA Athens, Salem's girlfriend. Alicia and Max Banes AKA Florence and Orlando, twin master hijackers and Jo Harvelle AKA Houston, a small town thief that Dean knew in his childhood. She wanted to enter the bank as well and help him but they all agreed that smuggling three thieves in (including Meg) is hard enough and four was pushing their luck. She regrettably let the matter go but wished him luck.

On the drive, Meg waited with patience earned only through complete faith which is so not her thing but she trusted Kansas enough to pull through on his promise to get her back in the bank by tonight.

When the truck abruptly stops, she can't help but smile, because just a minute later, the door is busted open and four guns point at the two guards with her. They order them to get out and they obey, mainly because they'd been too slow to react appropriately or even use her as leverage. They get out and one of the two men helps her out of the truck since she's tied up.

She's moved into a van and she sees that the truck's drivers are apprehended by a blonde woman who regards them with a nod. Once they're all in the van, the blonde woman hops into the driver's seat and drives.

In the van, the dark-haired woman hands her police uniform while she and the other man has already been wearing it before. She introduces, "I'm Athens and this is Santiago, we're going in the bank with you. They are Florence, Orlando and Houston is the driver, those three are just here to help with the escape." Meg nods along, muttering a word of thanks as she changes into the police uniform. Once she's done, the van pulls up at the side where three motorcycles are waiting.

Tossing helmets to the other two, Santiago gets on one motorcycle and calls someone that Meg assumes is Windom or Kansas, saying, "Just got to the motorcycle and riding in one minute. Be ready." He hangs up and starts the engine, driving off with Meg and Athens close behind.

**Monday, 5:30 PM**   
**79 hours  
24,000 kg  
$1.04 billion**

Sam lets the last questioned hostage go and asks Jody, "Hey, we have any news on Masters yet?"

"Other than her being sent off to court hours ago, complete radio silence," Jody notifies, shaking her head. "They should be arriving at court by now."

"Can you call them, see if they've reached yet?" Sam requests and Jody steps away to contact the drivers.

Victor comes into the tent, warning, "Inspector, three unauthorised motorcycles are about to enter the vicinity."

"Tell them the area's restricted, stop them," Sam says, following him out of the tent to spot the motorcycles. Victor signals to the SWAT officers nearer to the drivers and they shout to them, waving their arms. The motorcycles ram right through the yellow police tape, tearing them up as they speed up towards the bank. Sam's eyes widen, shouting, "Who the hell are they? Stop them!"

The bank doors begin to open and some Dalís come out, firing with poor aim yet again and the first motorcycle goes up the stairs right into the bank, followed by the second one. Sam retreats into the tent and demands, "Can someone hurry up and stop the third one?"

He can hear gunfire outside but by the time he exits the tent again, the doors are closing. Jody taps his shoulder, informing him with regret, "They said the truck got hijacked..."

When it's time, Dean orders for the doors to be opened, seeing the motorcycles beginning to approach the bank. Salem opens them and Angeles, Crowley, London and himself start shooting to give them cover. The SWAT officers try to stop them but they're too fast, passing them too quickly, and before long, two motorcycles have crossed into the bank. Sam disappears into the tent, presumably to give orders, and before he comes back out, one of the SWAT officers shoots their lucky shot.

Angeles hits the ground, blood spilling from his left shoulder.

"Angeles!" Dean shouts, running over to pick him up. "Cover me!"

The other Dalís shoot faster as Dean scoops up Angeles in his arms. He somehow looks smaller, feels more fragile, and once the last motorcycle drives in, Dean runs in after it with Angeles, ordering, "Close the doors!" Crowley and London run back into the bank right as the doors close and Salem had already gone to look for their gurney. London and Crowley pull off their masks just as Meg, Santiago and Dorothy take their helmets off.

Santiago runs over, taking Angeles's mask off, looking terrified when he sees how bleary Angeles already looks. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know. Where the hell is that gurney?" Dean shouts. Salem and Paris come back with it and Dean carefully sets Angeles down. He cups Angeles's face in his hands, patting his cheek lightly, "Angel, come on. You good?"

Angeles mumbles incoherently but it sounds like something along the lines of 'I'm alive'.

"He needs a professional, I'm going to ask Sam for a surgeon," Dean says.

Meg stares at him. "They're not gonna fucking send someone! We need to do something now!"

"I need to try, at least!" Dean argues. "Dallas, apply pressure and stop the bleeding. If he goes into shock, it won't matter if they give us a surgeon or not.” Dallas runs and comes back with a black T-shirt and he presses as hard as he can on Angeles's shoulder without hurting him further. Dean would try to make up a tourniquet but the wound being on the shoulder is putting a stint in that idea. The only good thing is that bullet removal would be as easy as it could possibly be as a type III injury. "Lean into it. Salem, come get me if he worsens."

Dean holds Angeles's hand, whispering, "Please wait for me, Angel. I'll come back."

Dean runs upstairs to the office, praying for the first time in his life.

Sam gets a call about three minutes after the whole motorcycle thing and he picks up. Before he can ask Dean what that was about, Dean speaks first, rushed and worried.

" _We need surgeons. Or even one, we'll take however many you're willing to give us_ ," Dean says from the other side of the phone. 

Sam pauses, looking out of the tent from where he's standing. Other than gunfire earlier when the three motorcycles drove into the bank, it didn't look any different. He asks, "Why do you need surgeons?"

" _Angeles got shot in his shoulder. He's losing a lot of blood, none of us... Please. We need a surgeon,_ " Dean practically pleads. Now that he knew who was on the other end of the phone, Sam could pick out traces of Dean's voice in it -- not his real voice, but the way it wavers when he's scared. _Dean is scared_.

Sam tells him to give him a second and he turns to Zachariah, saying, "You heard Kansas, he needs medical aid."

"Why should we give it?" Zachariah frowns, walking closer to debate. "All they've done is inconvenience us. It's time they paid the price and learned that they can't get away with everything."

Sam freezes. "You can't be serious."

Zachariah raises his eyebrows. "I'm very serious, Sam. If he dies, let it be a lesson."

Sam argues, "We're talking about actual human life, Zachariah. If he dies, that's on us."

"That's on them. Who asked them to hijack the Bank of America and kidnap the president's son?" Zachariah challenges.

Over the speaker, Dean's voice says, metallic yet fragile, " _Sam, please._ "

"We're not giving them a surgeon. Tell him that his precious Los Angeles can bleed out. That's how criminals pay their debts," Zachariah says, looking coldly at the phone in Sam's hand before stalking off. Sam stares after him in disbelief and when nobody else in the tent says anything, he wonders how he has been so blind for so long.

Dean runs up to the office and grabs the phone, ending Adam's incoming call and switching it to the line for the police tent, waving in apology to the camera knowing that Adam can see him. Once the call is put through, he gets right to what they need, forgoing greetings, "We need surgeons. Or even one, we'll take however many you're willing to give us."

"Why do you need surgeons?" Sam asks slowly. He's probably checking the bank's exterior. Without going for a closer look, he wouldn't see the blood on the steps.

Dean answers, foot-tapping in anxiousness of every second lost, "Angeles got shot in his shoulder. He's losing a lot of blood, none of us... Please. We need a surgeon." Sam tells him to give him a second and he listens to his debate with Colonel Zachariah Adler, straining his ears to pick up every word of it. The tide gets pulled further away from their shore with Sam losing out on authority and Dean's heart beats louder and louder in his ears.

Salem appears at the doorway, saying anxiously, "We really need help, Kansas." Dean barely even processes it, his mind keeps going _Angeles might die, Angeles might die, Angeles might die._

Sam says something about how if Angeles dies, it's on the police for not sending aid, and then Zachariah hits back with how it's their fault for being in the bank in the first place. Dean can't help but feel like that isn't fair at all because they never hurt anyone, not intentionally, and even if they used artillery, they misaimed with every shot. They shot to deter and the cops shot to kill and it's never been fair and now Angeles is going to die and it will be Dean's fault for being unable to get him a surgeon --

It comes out of Dean, broken and hurting. "Sam, please."

He can practically hear Sam thinking, hesitating, debating, second-guessing again and again. Zachariah's voice is faint in the background when he says, "We're not giving them a surgeon. Tell him that his precious Los Angeles can bleed out. That's how criminals pay their debts."

Sam says quietly, "They won't let me send someone in."

"A kit, equipment. _Anything_ ," Dean pleads, knowing that Angeles is bleeding out from his shoulder downstairs. Even with the knowledge that the other robbers are all watching him in his absence, he was still fucking scared. He never planned for this. Not Angeles getting shot, not Balthazar getting killed in the bank, not Sam being the one presiding over their case, not Abaddon hiding somewhere in the bank ready to kill them. Their good luck had run out since yesterday and it's just getting worse. "Inspector, we need help, he needs help."

Contemplative seconds of quiet and anxiety pass until Sam says, "Go to the window."

Dean puts down the phone and goes there, looking out. He sees Sam leave the tent and talk to the paramedics, obtaining something from them. Sam runs over to the front of the bank, stopping where Dean can see him. By then, Dean had pulled his mask back on. Sam holds up the object in his hand and Dean squints, realising that it's an IFAK kit. Sam points to the door just as Zachariah and the deputy inspector come out, yelling words Dean can't hear from where he is.

Sam starts walking towards the door and Dean shouts, "Open the doors, Sam's coming in with med supplies!"

It isn't right. Someone is dying and he didn't sign up to let someone die, especially not after Rome last night. Sam tells Dean to go to the window and he puts the phone down, talking to the paramedics outside in their ambulances. He explains what's happening in the bank and that while Zachariah won't allow surgeons to enter, Sam will at least bring them supplies. They approve, giving him an IFAK kit and wishing him good luck, telling him to handle shock first.

Sam lifts the IFAK medical kit to the windows of the bank and begins to walk closer. A Dalí looks out at him through the glass -- Dean -- and he turns to the door. He can hear Zachariah and Jody calling him back, warning him about snipers he knows aren't there for him. He keeps going until he reaches the door and it opens. Five Dalís file out with rifles raised, making sure nobody else tries to enter and giving Sam room to go in. Once he's in, they Dalís back away and the doors shut and lock once more.

One of the Dalís -- her hood is off but she still has her mask on, her only distinctive feature is red hair cut into a bob. Her voice gives her away as Salem when she speaks, leading him into the other room, "He's this way."

Sam follows her to a wooden cart being used as a gurney of sorts. Angeles's mask is off this time to give him more breathing room and Sam feels sick when he can see his blood even with the red uniform. Angeles's face is pale and he already looks more than a little out of it, his movements sluggish and eyes unfocused. Dallas is already applying pressure to his wound. Sam angles his head slightly higher to make breathing a bit easier for Angeles.

Angeles slurs, "Kansas, where is K..."

"Almost here. Give him a minute," Meg assures, running a gentle hand through Angeles's dark hair. It's a stark contrast to how Sam saw her earlier -- rough, rude, unapologetic. But here, she is kind and caring. The other Dalís are there; some he has never seen before and some that are obviously the motorcyclists. They all shared one common thread -- worry and fear.

A Dalí runs their way, stopping on the other side of the cart from Sam. He pulls up his mask and for the first time in eleven years, Sam looks into the eyes of his brother. He's more grown, sharper, and his face is grave when he sees Angeles. Dean says to Paris, "Get the vet here." She nods, running off to fetch Amelia Richardson. With no proper surgeon, a vet is the best they can have other than Crowley with his magnification loupe and what little expertise he has in human biology.

Amelia appears with Paris and she asks, "Where is he shot?"

"Shoulder," Dean answers, stepping aside to make way for her.

She nods at Dallas applying pressure and requests, "Can someone work on getting antibiotics? Do we have any?" Sam raises it from the supplies and she hums in acknowledgement, commanding, "Alright, we need workroom. Those who have no experience in the least, please make way."

Since not everyone could stay and they needed to get out of the bank as soon as possible, Dean knew they had to get back to work even if they didn't want to. With Abaddon running free and more of their people getting gunned down, they couldn't stop. Dean orders, "Salem, back to the hostages. Athens, you're taking over with gold. Dallas, take Santiago and Berlin to the tunnel. Paris and Vegas, find Abaddon."

Athens tries, "I've treated my friends when they were shot before."

Dean clearly becomes conflicted about leaving Angeles's side so Sam assures, "I'll watch him." While Sam paled in the challenge of stitching Chuck, it's only because he hadn't been trained for that. He was pretty solid in doing immediate treatment for gunshot wound, however, and he hoped it would be enough help with Amelia and Athens's expertise.

Dean finally says, "Then Athens, you stay. Paris will take care of the gold. Vegas, you and I are looking for Abaddon." Athens nods, taking his place at the cart, and Dean gives Angeles one final look before running off to the gold vault.

Dean and Meg carefully make their way down the hallways of the bank, almost back-to-back in the way they move as they check every room with rifles raised. Even with the problem of Abaddon running loose in the bank, his mind is only on Angeles downstairs. He ends up almost hitting a pillar, deep in thought and concern, and Meg's gaze snaps towards him, "We need to focus."

"I know, I know," Dean replies, stepping away from the pillar. "I'm just... Angeles is down there."

Meg doesn't say anything and he knows she's just as scared for him. She tries, "Look, he's got that vet hostage and Athens, plus Winchester. And Angeles is a strong guy. He'll be fine." She sounds like she's convincing herself but Dean tries not to let that get to him.

Their search proves fruitless -- it's a game of hide-and-seek to her and she's winning. Every minute that passes has Dean getting more and more riled up; every minute of no updates regarding Angeles, every minute of Abaddon continuing to hide from them and biding her time, every minute that they can't give Balthazar a proper funeral in the bank.

At some point, Meg suggests, "We should stop looking."

Dean stares at her. "She's motherfucking _Black Ops_. And you want to stop looking? She wants to _kill_ us!"

"I know! Who do you think she threatened?" Meg responds, looking even more bothered than before. "She told me she would kill me after she killed --"

She cuts herself off, eyes widening, and Dean picks up what she’s dropped, whispering, “Angeles.”

The two of them take off down the hall, running down the stairs while they grip their rifles tight. Meg's mask falls off while they run back to where they left Angeles but she doesn't bother with it.

They skid to a stop outside the room and Meg kicks the door. They both raise their rifles as the door swings open and Sam, Dorothy and Amelia look up in shock.

"He's okay! He's stabilised!" Amelia quickly says, raising her arms in surrender. They lower their rifles, catching their breaths in the relief, and Dean runs to Angeles's side, touching his cheek gently.

"Is he awake?" Dean asks, looking up at the three of them.

Dorothy answers, "Out like a baby. He'll probably wake up again late at night or tomorrow. We three agreed to take turns watching him for the night in case he wakes up."

Dean sinks into the chair next to the makeshift bed they've made of the couch from the office. Angeles's shoulder is bandaged, the reddening gauze clear under the thin layers. They'll have to change it in a few hours but Dean's heart feels at ease seeing him fine and alive in front of him.

Dorothy says, "We'll give you some privacy. If you need anything, just come and find us. I'll be with the hostages." Amelia follows her out and Meg says she'll go switch duties with Crowley so he can return to gold management and Paris can go back and tend to the hostages. Once they're gone, it's just Sam, Dean and Angeles.

Dean starts, "I'm sorry."

"Just shut up, man," Sam chokes out, reaching over to pull Dean into a hug. "I thought you fucking died."

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I am," Dean keeps apologising. "I should have told you where I went, what I wanted to do. I guess I didn't think it would take that long and I always thought, you know, one more day and I'll be on my way back. But the plan just kept growing and I kept aiming higher... and I never came back. I became like Dad and I'll never forgive myself for that."

"You're _nothing_ like Dad. All he does is use my money and splurge on alcohol. He doesn't even go to his job and he breaks into my house just to blackout," Sam denies, pulling away from Dean to look at him. "Yeah, you made my job hell the past three days but even I have to admit that this plan you made is incredible."

Dean glances at Angeles and frowns, "It's not that great. Balthazar's dead, Angeles got shot..."

"You fucked with the police, man. Not everyone can do that at the magnitude you've done it," Sam says. "If you asked me to plan this heist, I'd never have been able to do it. You've always been a smart guy, Dean. I just wish I knew why you used it for this."

Dean explains, in a desperate attempt to get him to understand his reasoning and never be a bad guy in his little brother's eyes, "Sammy, this plan... I'm fucked. Alright? It's been going wrong since yesterday. I'm not 'using my intelligence' to fuck around with America. I'm doing this because we need it, and we haven't run away yet because we _need_ this. I'm not a bad guy, Sam."

"Dean --"

"The bank made twenty-two billion out of nothing. We're doing the same thing but we're barely taking a billion or so. The money the bank makes? Goes to the banks straight from production to the rich. Nobody called the banks robbers, right?" Dean continues, unable to stop once he starts. Sam stares at him with wide eyes as Dean rambles, "Liquidity injections. I know you know this. Why the hell do the rich need all that money? What about people like _us_? We're all in this for something. I was gonna use my money to start again, be a good big brother to you, get a good life for once. Angeles was going to get his brother a new life after wrongful imprisonment. He told me last night that Balthazar was gonna use his share so his poor family can have money to get by and they didn't have to work again."

Sam listens, completely silent, as Dean reached to the desk and grabbed a fifty-dollar note from the stack there. Holding it up in front of Sam, he rips it up. "What's the big deal? It's paper. It's just fucking paper. That gold underground? What rich person needs _gold_? This is all just a liquidity injection, Sam. But it's going to the people who need it this time, to people who just need to disappear."

Dean lets the torn pieces drop to the floor and silence has never been so troubling to Sam until this moment. Finally, Dean says achingly, "A dead family man and one with a shot to his shoulder and all for paper and unused ingots. You can't think this is fair."

Sam says, quiet, "It's not."

"Make your choice. If you want to leave, I'll open the doors for you and you can go," Dean says. He takes a spare Dalí mask and holds it out to Sam, adding, "If you want to stay, pick a name."

Sam stares long and hard at Dean and the mask, the painter's face bearing so much more meaning, a different meaning than before. What used to be a symbol of taunting and overconfidence is now a revolution for the people who never got what they deserved.

Sam makes his choice.

"Lebanon."

**Monday, 9:00 PM**   
**82 hours**   
**25,200 kg**   
**$1.08 billion**

Since disappearing behind the doors of the bank willingly, Sam never came back out. Jody started getting anxious about it and asking if they should send surgeons in to check on Sam but Zachariah knew that if they wanted to do anything to Sam, it would have been done by now. There's no use sending more victims to their doorstep. If Sam got killed, then it was his own foolish impulsiveness. Nobody asked him to walk into a bank full of armed unhinged robbers.

With the leading inspector off the case, they have to call in a new one. A better one; twice as relentless with less heart and more drive than Sam.

A blond woman with eyes colder and harsher than hailstones walks into the police tent, heels clicking against the concrete as she makes her way to the front. She starts directing, voice commanding, "I want to know how much gasoline those Dalís have that's feeding the emergency generators for if they run out of power. Bring the underground teams, I want to know if the seismographs catch underground activity. I want to know how much money they've made already."

"Sorry, who are you?" Donna asks the question everyone else is thinking.

"I'm Colonel Arthur Ketch. Zachariah, you're no longer necessary," he sneers, and somehow there's someone more obnoxious than Zachariah. "However, if you want to stay, you may, but be quiet and go to the little kids' table. The adults are here."

The woman smiles, slow, and it is practised and unsettling. "My name is Naomi Intel and I will be the new inspector of this heist," she declares, crossing her legs as she settles in the chair in front of the phone. "Let's start, shall we?"


	5. DAY FIVE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning:  
> Death threat/Russian Roulette  
> Excessive use of artillery/Extreme gunfight  
> Attempted murder  
> Death

**2 months ago**

"No way."

Bela raises her glass of wine into the air and declares, a smile splitting across her face, "Two billion."

Dallas scoffs loudly, kicking his feet up on the table as he asks, looking around at the others, "Can we really get two billion?"

"If we stay for the whole ten to twelve days, we can get way more than two billion," Bela grins. "Maybe even four."

Angeles bites the corner off of the square biscuit in his hand, looking up over the top of his newspaper. Expectedly, Kansas is watching him with a softness to his eyes that Bela never saw when he was looking at anyone else. She was sensitive about this kind of thing. Kansas looks at Bela like she's gonna make him rich (which is true), at Dallas like an old friend, at Salem like a sister. At Paris like a business partner, at Rome like someone who helps him cheat in an exam. He looks at Meg and Berlin like they sneak him a smoke when he's not allowed, and at Windom like they both had debts to pay one another.

At Angeles? Forget the rest of them. He looks at him like he raised him out of hell.

"Fuck yeah, four billion," Meg grins, tapping the mouth of her bottle to Bela's glass. 

Berlin says from her side, not looking up from his phone, "Two. Let's not be too ambitious."

"One and a half?" Salem suggests with her mouth full of sandwich. Paris narrows her eyes at her, mouthing at her to chew.

"I'm not leaving that bank without at least two," Bela says decisively. Kansas grins, wide and easy, draping his arm over the back of Angeles's chair. His thumb strokes Angeles's right shoulder where his hand rests and neither man says a word about it.

"I like the way you think," Kansas says. "Two billion dollars it is."

It's a pleasant Tuesday afternoon. Everyone is in good spirits, the heist now only two months away and excitement eating at their nerves. Windom and Rome keep to themselves sitting together, a distance away from the rest of them, talking about God-knows-what. Kansas and Angeles are their usual weirdly attached selves, Paris is almost like a wild older sister to Salem, Dallas and Berlin discussing their jobs at the bank. Meg leans in closer to her and asks, "After the heist, you wanna pool our money and go do some crazy shit?"

Bela smiles, open to the idea, and returns, "What are you thinking?"

"You know how to count cards. We'll hit all the best casinos, double our cuts. You can get all the designer clothing you want, we could get some big place in fucking, I don't know. Angeles wants to go to Italy and let's be real, Kansas is gonna follow him. Berlin's gonna take his mom back to Scotland. Dallas is gonna retire or something in Louisiana. Don't know about the rest, think they just want to go home. Where do you wanna go?"

Bela frowns, considering, and says, "You know, weirdly enough, I've never been to Spain."

Meg raises her eyebrows, "So you want to go to Spain?"

"You know what? Yes," Bela beams. "I want to go to Spain."

Meg raises an eyebrow in thought before nodding, "We'll hit Spain after the casinos. Be filthy rich, buy a mansion. Drown in money."

"I like the sound of that," Bela laughs, sipping her wine.

Angeles puts the papers down and asks, "You're moving to Spain?"

Bela affirms it, humming in delight, and she had a good feeling.

**Tuesday, 5:00 AM**   
**90 hours**   
**28,400 kg**   
**$1.21 billion**

The thing about moving to Spain with Bela is that Meg is excited at the prospect of it because, well, she actually fucking adores Bela. She's like the perfect partner-in-crime and getting even richer through counting cards in casinos and then spending the rest of their days in the most expensive mansion in Spain is unequivocally the best ending for Meg.

Do you know what puts a wrench in those plans? Not even being able to get to the casinos because they're stuck in this fucking bank.

Meg's chest has been pure thunder and murder since hours ago when Angeles got shot. Angeles is someone Meg holds dear to her heart -- kind, reserved, badass when he has to be, one of the best thieves she has ever known. So when he gets shot and not only does the police deny him even just one surgeon, but Kansas didn't even intend to get him an ambulance, relying only on their (frankly appalling) expertise, she snaps.

When Kansas is in the office, back turned to the door, Meg presses a revolver to the back of his head and mutters in a low voice, "Come along quietly."

Kansas raises his hands and stands without argument, following Meg to the door where Paris and Athens are, rifles raised. Salem and Crowley are standing at the side, not aiming anything at Kansas. Kansas frowns, "What is this?"

"Your second mutiny," Meg answers, directing Kansas to walk forward as Crowley led the way to the other room. "Let us leave the bank."

"Why?"

Meg gazes at him, bewildered, but provides no answer. Salem pushes open the door and Meg shoves him into the room.

Kansas stares, looking at each one of them like he's thinking of his next move. In a split second, he pulls his pistol out of his holster and fires at the ceiling, the shot ringing loudly in the small space. Meg lunges at him, grabbing and sitting him down onto a chair that Paris brings forward. She goes behind him to bind him with handcuffs so he can't fight his way out of it. "I know you're a street brawler, Kansas. I'm not leaving you hands-free. What the hell was that shot for?"

"I'm not just gonna sit here, Vegas," Kansas says, and in the next second, there's footsteps approaching the office. Paris shuts and locks the door, standing next to it alongside Crowley.

_Bang!_

Sam's head snaps to the side, eyes wide. "What the hell was that?"

"Can't be Abaddon, Windom would have called," Angeles mutters. Right then, the phone rings and Castiel stares at Sam before picking up. "Windom, talk to me."

"Kansas is in the fifth office down from the governor's. Vegas, Berlin, Athens, Salem and Paris captured him," Windom says in a rush. "They tied him up, I think they want him to let them leave the bank."

"A fucking mutiny?" Santiago's eyes widen.

Angeles nods and hangs up, turning to them, "Get London --" Before he finishes talking, London is at the doorway with her rifle raised, mask pushed up into her hair.

"What was that shot?"

“Kansas is in trouble,” Angeles answers, leaving his rifle behind as he starts making his way to where Kansas is held. Sam, Santiago and London follow, careful as they approach the door.

"Vegas, open the door!" Sam shouts, banging on it.

Paris, Salem, Dorothy and Crowley stand around warily, Salem eyeing the door. Meg turns to her, threatening, "Open that door and I'll shoot you in the foot."

Dorothy glares at her warningly, protective of her girlfriend, and steps in front of Salem. "Watch yourself, Vegas."

Meg disregards her, diverting her attention back to Dean. "Let us leave."

"We can't leave," Dean rejects. "The tunnel's still not done and at least half of us still want to keep the operation going."

"Okay, maybe I wasn't clear," Meg says good-naturedly. She takes her revolver out of the holster on her thigh, ejecting the cylinder. She pours the bullets out into her hand, leaving only one behind. She uses one finger to flick it, letting it spin for a few seconds before she snaps it back into the frame. Smiling sadistically, Meg bends slightly and tucks the barrel of her revolver under Dean's jaw with her finger resting over the trigger. "Let's try this again. I want to get the hell out of this bank."

This, Dean wasn't expecting. He knew Meg was a time bomb waiting to go off, but he didn't think it would be like this.

Crowley presses his lips together before advising, "Perhaps that's not the best idea."

"Tell Windom to get the escape truck ready," Meg demands.

"I can't do that," Dean replies firmly. Meg nods slowly, feigning understanding.

"Fine. One."

She pulls the trigger. _Click!_

Dean flinches despite himself and Paris says, looking unsure, "Vegas, I think you should stop."

"The answer's still no," Dean stands his ground. "There's no point. The tunnel's not even done. What are you going to do? Walk out the front door? You'll be dead before you even wave a white flag. And --"

"Two." _Click!_

Rapid banging on the door rings through the room and Santiago shouts from the other side, "Vegas, what are you doing? Stop it!"

Meg leans in closer to Dean, pressing the barrel closer as she says, "Rome is dead, Angeles got shot and Abaddon is stalking us around the bank. Angeles needs a hospital, he's in no condition to play hide and seek with Abaddon."

"You think I don't know that? Not twenty-four hours ago, I was arguing with you about looking for her!" Dean replies, pushing forward against the rope over his chest. "I know Angeles needs a hospital! I asked for a surgeon and they said no. If I wanted an ambulance, it's either we surrendered him or we fixed him up ourselves and I think Amelia, Athens and Lebanon did a good enough job."

"Would he have been okay with that? You didn't even ask him," Meg points out, argumentative and riled up.

"Vegas, I'd rather die here with my family than in a prison," Angeles says, his voice weak but audible through the door. "Kansas knows me well enough."

Dean says, eyes dropping to Meg's gun, "Angeles didn't even want us to hand him to the police. We already said we'd give Rome the funeral he should have once we were out of here. And you are wasting a lot of time doing this when Abaddon is still around. If you want to leave, I can't and won't stop you, but you'll have to go with Dallas to speed up work on the tunnel. You can take your share of whatever money and gold we have by now and go once the tunnel's done, I'll tell Windom not to stop you. So you can leave, or you can stay."

Meg stares at him and the revolver trembles under Dean's jaw. "Rome's still dead."

"Abaddon's still in the bank," Dean counters.

Meg walks away abruptly and drags a hand through her dark hair, visibly bothered. She paces around him, asking, "You don't seriously think this is still just a money heist?" Dean remains silent, waiting for her to continue, and she stops in front of him, shouting, "You crazy son of a bitch! This stopped being a heist when Rome got shot and died! This isn't a robbery, it's death row!" The room has fallen silent, even the people on the other side of the door didn't make a sound, and she says, "The bank may be ours right now, but Abaddon isn't stuck in here with us. _We're_ stuck in the bank with _her_."

"I know! Fucking shit, I know," Dean snaps. "You think I don't care that Rome's dead? That's going to haunt me for the rest of my fucking life. If I could die in his place, I would. Rome -- Balthazar was my family, just like the rest of you. I love you all, and I'm always going to blame myself for Balthazar. This shit with Abaddon, I know it's making all of us scared and this is not helping at all. If you put down the gun, we can talk about it --"

"Jesus. Shut the fuck up! _Three._ " _Click!_

What an odd way to die.

Salem yelps, looking scared, and Dorothy instantly raises her gun to aim at Meg. "Vegas, shoot him and I'll shoot you." Crowley's gun comes up at that, directed at Dorothy, which just makes Salem point her own gun at Crowley's, and now Paris's is aimed at Salem. It would be a fucking ridiculous scenario if it didn't mean that if any of them fired, Dean would die.

The door bursts down and Sam raises his rifle to Meg, saying, "Put the gun down." Santiago, London and Angeles come in after him, the first two raising guns at the other robbers and Angeles simply walking closer.

"Angel, stay back. I'm fine," Dean says, eyeing his bandages peeking out from the collar of his coveralls. Angeles ignores him, going nearer until he's just a foot away from Meg. He gently redirects the gun from Dean's jaw to his own chest and Dean's eyes widen, the room suddenly tortuously quiet.

"If you have to shoot someone," Angeles says quietly. "Shoot me."

Meg's gaze is uncomprehending, unable to understand why Angeles would give her such a decision, and Angeles takes advantage of the uncertainty to continue, "I'm disposable. Kansas... If you shoot him, blow his brains out on the ceiling, we'll be stuck here. He's the only one who truly knows every inch of this plan, the contingency plans if more things go wrong. He dies, we're all dead." Meg begins to lower the revolver. "I'm fine, alright? Don't worry about me."

Meg puts the revolver down and the others follow until there are no more guns pointed at anyone's head.

"Jesus, what kind of a first day is this?" Santiago cracks a joke.

**Tuesday, 7:00 AM**   
**92 hours**   
**29,200 kg**   
**$1.24 billion**

For Dean's sanity, he sent Meg down to the safes with Dallas to work on the tunnel. After her close-cut game of Russian Roulette, Dean's not that jazzed about having her hang around him, at least for a few hours, so he thought assigning her to the vaults was a better idea. She didn't complain and went off with Dallas. Without knowing about any secret rooms in the blueprints of the bank, Dean didn't know where to begin looking for someone who knew where said secret rooms are hidden, so he decides that the only way to move is forward -- sending everyone back to their duties and asking Adam to watch the footage and call him if he sees her. Adam promises not to leave his post so that's settled, and he resigns himself to watching Angeles in case Abaddon somehow sneaks in.

Since Meg and he remembered that she threatened to kill Angeles once she was free, Dean can't stand Angeles being alone for even one second, especially with how he's recovering from a bullet to the shoulder. Nobody argued to take over when Dean said he would guard Angeles -- maybe they knew why he cared so much, but it's hardly important now, and Dean had bigger things to worry about than them knowing that Angeles may mean more to him than he thought.

Angeles looks at Dean from his place on the couch and asks, "How are you?"

"How are _you_?" Dean returns, going closer. Red dots through his bandages and he frowns, saying, "I'll change your bandages."

"Alright," Angeles nods, sitting up and unzipping the coveralls. He'd forgone wearing the black shirt underneath so changing bandages will be easier on him and his stitches. "And I'm fine. But Vegas just played Russian Roulette on you. I'd think you would be shaken up about that." He adds, carefully watching Dean's movements, "Are you?"

Dean smiles easily, assuring, "Yeah. Relax. Gun didn't blow my brains out."

"But it was one shot away," Angeles insists. "How can you be okay?"

"I'm still here, aren't I? I'm good," Dean replies, sitting down next to Angeles and opening the medical box. He starts to unroll the bandages, slow and careful, and Angeles stays as still as he can manage. Once the bandages are off, Dean cleans up the dried blood on Angeles's skin and starts to wrap the fresh bandages around his body.

Angeles says like he's afraid of approaching the subject, "About Saturday night..."

"What do you think of Palermo?" Dean replies and Angeles frowns in confusion.

"I think it's a beautiful city in Italy..." Angeles trails off. "Why?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to get a place in Italy?" Dean asks, clipping the bandage in place with the elastic fastener. "I was doing a little bit of research, looking at cities we could live in. I'm good with Palermo if you are."

That renders Angeles speechless as Dean closes the medical box. He moves it to the desk and crosses his arms, looking back at Angeles. His blue eyes are contemplative, perplexed, hopeful, amazed, all at once. It's a sight to behold, the way Angeles looks at him as he pulls the sleeves of his coveralls back over his arms but leaving it unzipped on the front. He flickers once, then twice, and his mouth falls open. He asks, faraway, "You want to move to Italy with me?"

"To Palermo, yeah," Dean grins, sunny and maybe a little bit excited at the idea. "You know, I'm thinking Il Capo, I saw that they're big on art and I know you like that kind of thing. Or Castellammare? The nightlife there's fucking great, there's gonna be good music and dancing --"

Angeles cuts in absently, "My name is Castiel James Novak."

Dean stares, almost disbelieving of Castiel giving him his name, and he returns the favour without even having to think about it, "Dean Winchester."

"Dean Winchester," Castiel echoes, his voice something small and open like the heart of any great love story, and it's like it spreads warmth in Dean's chest where it has been cold for years, the sound of his name in Castiel's voice thrumming deep in his heart where loneliness used to be. "You know, Balthazar guessed that your name was Dean."

Dean smiles, enamoured. "Really? Am I that predictable?"

"No," Castiel says softly. "No, you're not."

They're more than comrades, less than sweethearts, and Dean craves for more but is grateful for less. A heist is no place to fall in love with Los Angeles in the Bank of America... but falling in love with Castiel Novak in Palermo, Italy sounded like a plan. A damn good one; the best plan Dean will ever come up with, in this lifetime. But if recent events have taught him anything, it's that there's never a right time and there are no happy endings, not for people like them. 

He walks a little bit closer to Castiel and cradles his face between his hands, gentle, and kisses him.

There is no lust and there is no hurry. There is, instead, something sweet and golden, and it aches in his chest. Castiel opens his mouth over his, welcoming, and Dean kisses him breathless.

There, in that office kissing Castiel, nothing, no amount of money or gold, will ever be more valuable than _this_. Dean wonders if he truly deserves him, but in Castiel's embrace, he feels like he belongs there.

And it has never been about deserving; it's about believing, hoping, wanting. And God, he wanted Castiel so bad.

He pulls away almost reluctantly and smiling has never come so easily to him as he says, "So, Palermo, then?"

"Palermo," Castiel agrees.

Sam knocks on the door of the office before entering. After getting Angeles into a stable condition, they'd moved him to the office and the hostages formerly there were sent back to the main hall with the others. He'd arrived looking for Dean, only to be stopped at the doorway as Dean was about to get someone to take over guard duty so he can check on operations.

"Hey, how is he?" Sam asks.

"Better," Dean says, glancing back at the office. "I gotta go check on gold production, you mind keeping an eye on him?" Sam nods and Dean pats him on the back in thanks, walking off.

Sam enters the office and takes the empty seat next to where Angeles rested on the couch. He asks, "Do you need to change your bandages?"

"Your brother already did it for me earlier, it's fine for now, thank you," Angeles answers. Sitting next to him, seeing the bandages spread over his chest with red faintly dotting the thin cloth, his hair messy and eyes tired, it's almost difficult to believe that just twenty-four hours ago, Sam had been trying to arrest him. And now he's offering to do his bandages.

And he totally forgot to tell Jess that 'oh yeah, I'm gonna join the criminals I've spent the past four days trying to catch. My brother convinced me. Turns out he's the mastermind and has been alive this whole time. By the way, might not make it home for a while!'. He owes her so many rainchecks when he gets out... 

Regardless, it's still evident that despite that, Angeles is just another human. Which should be obvious, but when you've only seen someone as a plastic Dalí mask, it's hard to connect them with being an actual real person with a life. Seeing Angeles bleeding out yesterday, barely saving him with Amelia and Athens's work on him, it's a whole new perspective.

"I'm sorry," Sam apologises, and he's almost surprised by how sincere it is.

Angeles raises an eyebrow and nods slowly, looking over at him with pensive eyes. "For what? You're not the one that shot me."

"For thinking for even a second that you were evil... Because as I've come to realise, you just want to start over again. And I thought that's what I was helping people do in this job, but I've been living a lie," Sam says. "I mean, everything we've been doing over original notes?"

"And gold reserves," Angeles mutters.

Sam blinks but shrugs, "Who even uses gold reserves anyway? But the point is, there was too much needless violence and carelessness on my side of things, and I should have quit a long time ago. So I'm sorry and I hope I can start again with you all."

Angeles finally nods, saying, "We're all just a bunch of losers, Sam." Hearing his name from one of the robbers, like they're friends, borders on weird, but it's now his new normal which amazes Sam. "All looking to start again. It's only fair that we give you that chance too."

It's extraordinary when Sam feels a smile grow on his face, a weight lifted off of his shoulders as Angeles says that.

A second chance to be a better man. Sam feels relief wash over his being.

**Tuesday, 3:32 PM**   
**101 hours**   
**32,800 kg**   
**$1.39 billion**

"All the cameras just went offline," Adam says, sounding like he's on the verge of panicking.

Dean tries to placate him, "Hey, come on. I'll just find where the cameras are hooked up and fix it. It's fine, okay? Maybe sewage messed with it or something."

"No, you don't understand. It's different," Adam insists, but the sound starts getting rusty. "Dean, I --"

The sound cuts out completely.

Dean asks, beginning to feel Adam's fear, "Adam?" Utter silence greets him back, and it has never been so loud.

Abaddon shuts the electrical box after cutting off the cameras and landline. They were not difficult to find, which is their own stupid mistake. Now they've lost their eye in the sky. Entirely blind and deaf to her whereabouts. Now, they're the ones trapped in the bank. Who's laughing now?

She puts her radio on speaker and starts gearing up, slipping on her bulletproof vest as the line connects. A woman's voice answers, "Who is this?"

"Abaddon Knight, the head guard of Governor Frank Devereaux's security team," she answers promptly. Instantly, there's discussion and Abaddon can't tell if she was put on speaker or if she was taken off of it. Abaddon asks, "I thought Inspector Winchester was on this case."

"Yes, was. He entered the bank and never came back out," the woman responds. "I am Inspector Naomi Intel, his replacement."

Abaddon puts on more protective gear and says, "I'm currently in a hidden base in the bank. The robbers don't know where I am. If you give me the go-ahead, I can terminate them for you."

Naomi is silent for a minute and then a male British voice says, "We're not permitted to issue official permission for that... but I can say that you acted on your own accord, in self-defence."

Abaddon smirks, pleased, and says, "If you hear gunfire, don't storm the bank. It'll be me."

Sam had gone to the bathroom, leaving Castiel alone for a few minutes. It's an odd experience to meet Dean's brother. He can see their similarities; the same shade of green in their eyes, the same intelligence. It's an even odder, but fulfilling, experience to know him as Dean instead of Kansas.

Castiel drags half of his coveralls down to look at his bandages, faintly hearing the sound of running water from the bathroom in the office. It's not too bad and should last for a few more hours before he has to get it changed again. The stitches still _feel_ , but it's a hell lot better than when it was a hole. He turns to look out of the window at the police base, pulling the coveralls' sleeve back over his shoulder. There are new faces now, none of which he recognises, but it means they've given up on Sam; either they don't care enough or they think they've executed him for bringing medical supplies.

A hand on his hurt shoulder abruptly pulls him away from the window and he's pushed back down on the couch. Eyes wide, instinct kicks in and he grabs at whoever it is. Red hair brushes his face, flashing a cruel smile above him, and he realises belatedly that he's going to die.

"I told you I'd kill you," Abaddon whispers, pressing a pillow down onto Castiel's face with more force than he thought it would be. Distantly, he feels the pressure of a gun barrel press against the other side of the pillow, ready to fire.

Castiel starts to panic, feeling his injury come undone under Abaddon's other hand and he desperately tries to shove Abaddon off of him. She's stronger than him in this state and he can't shout, his throat feeling dry. His lungs grasp frantically for air and he tries to reach for the gun on the other side of the pillow.

She's suddenly knocked off him and Sam forms in his blurred vision as he draws in deep breaths, hurriedly sitting up. Sam has a chair in his hands and he helps Castiel up, looking him over, "Are you okay?"

"Better, thank you," Castiel grasps for breath. "I'm going to let Dean know we have her. Can you manage?"

"Yeah," Sam nods. "Go tell him."

Abaddon has been located, in a way that seizes Dean's heart -- her attempted murder of Castiel. He stumbles into the money printing sector, London spotting him, and tells them that Sam has Abaddon in control, that she tried to kill him. He's bleeding from his wound, the fresh stitches ruptured by Abaddon. Dean orders London to get Salem and Paris to move the hostages to a more secure location and watch them while the rest of them, including Dallas from the tunnel, go meet with Sam to get Abaddon.

Except that when they get to where Castiel said he left Sam and Abaddon, the only person there is Sam who is unconscious, bleeding from his head, a glass ashtray shattered on the ground next to him.

"Lebanon!" Dean calls out, dropping to his knees next to him and shaking him. "Hey, come on. Get up."

Sam blinks himself awake and groans, his hand coming up and pulling away to be dipped in crimson. He comes to his bearings, mumbling, a little out of it, "She got away, I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's alright," Dean assures. "You okay?"

"Yeah, fine," Sam nods, sitting up. "Just need a bandage." Salem makes a move for the medical box, taking out gauze to stick over Sam's head wound. Thankfully, it's not that bad, and Sam insists that he's perfectly fine and can handle looking for Abaddon.

She could have killed the two most important people to Dean in the bank and he might not have found out until hours later. The thought is terrifying, that this may be her sick way of warning them that she's coming and she's not going to go easy on them. Dean instructs, "Alright, we're gonna pair off. Nobody goes alone," Dean instructs. "Athens and Dallas, London and Vegas, Santiago and Lebanon. Santiago, please take care of him." Santiago nods and Dean gets the feeling that he knows what it's like to have a brother. "Berlin, you're with me. Salem and Paris, you protect the hostages."

Castiel frowns, "What about me?"

"You got shot yesterday! You're staying here," Dean replies, firm, leaving no room for argument. Maybe for someone else, it would have worked and they would take the order. But Castiel is different, Dean always knew he was, so of course, Castiel argues.

Castiel's glare deepens as he says, "She killed Rome. I'm going whether you want me to or not." Dean stares at him but Castiel's eyes are steel, unwavering. "And besides, I'll still be alone here, won't I?"

"I can stay with him," Santiago offers.

Castiel instantly rejects the idea, "No. You have to watch Lebanon."

"But _you're_ my brother!" Santiago protests, clearly concerned, and everyone stares wide-eyed. Dean realises -- Santiago is Castiel's falsely imprisoned brother.

Dean tries, "Okay, Santiago stays with Angeles, Lebanon and Berlin with me."

"If you make me stay here, I'm going after her myself," Castiel challenges.

Reluctantly, Dean relents, knowing that he could either contest Cas all day or agree with him and start the search party. He walks over and supports Cas up off the bed. He helps with securing a Kevlar vest on his body and slings the rifle over his shoulder. He redistributes, "Fine. Santiago with Lebanon. Dallas, you go work on the tunnel. I think we should get out of here by tomorrow. Berlin, with Athens. Angeles, you're coming with me. Everyone clear?" At their nods, Dean sends them off and they go down separate paths in the bank, wary and alert.

**Tuesday, 5:41 PM**   
**103 hours**   
**33,600 kg**   
**$1.42 billion**

The bank, when you're looking for someone, becomes very big, very quickly.

Dean asks, slowly moving down the hallway with Castiel close behind, "How's your wound?"

"My stitches are coming out," Castiel answers quietly, tipping the edge of an office door open with his boot and checking -- empty. They seal the room with zip-ties. "I'll be fine."

"Why did you insist on coming along? I'd feel a lot better if your brother watched you," Dean asks.

Castiel rolls his eyes and says as Dean opens the next empty room to scope, "I'm not letting you look for her without me, you idiot."

"I would be with Berlin! He's capable," Dean asserts, slightly irritable by Castiel's stubbornness. They clear all the rooms on their side of the floor and start making their way to the elevator. "You have stitches that are barely hanging together! Why did you want to go look for her?"

They step into the elevator and Castiel throws his hands up in the air and says like it's so obvious, "Because I love you! If anything happened to you and I was just sitting around, I'd never be able to forgive myself."

Before Dean can say anything in response, bullets suddenly blast at them and they both drop to the ground, looking over. Abaddon laughs loudly, sadistically, as she shoots from her rifle. Dean thanks God that they all decided to wear their Kevlar vests. Both of them get behind the elevator's sides and start to fire at her from the vague cover. Dean shouts over the noise, "If you need to stop shooting, then stop!"

"Shut up!" Castiel yells back, firing relentlessly. "I'm in this with you!"

At some point, one of them manages to at least graze Abaddon and she dodges into a room just as London and Meg arrive. The two of them run over to them in the elevator as Castiel leans against the wall, catching a breather. Meg asks, looking over Castiel, "Are you hurt?" The blood is starting to bleed through his red coveralls but Castiel insists that he's good to go.

London checks Dean in turn, making sure he's fine, and then Castiel shouts, " _Abaddon!_ "

Abaddon shows herself again, firing with two rifles this time, and they all duck behind the sides of the elevator out of her firing reach. Meg and London take the front, shooting at her as she dodges most of it. Meg yells, "How are none of these hitting her?"

Dorothy and Crowley sneak up behind Abaddon, hiding behind pillars and doorways before they start blasting at her as well. Caught off-guard, Dorothy nicks Abaddon's shoulder and Abaddon redirects one of her rifles at Dorothy, shooting. One of the bullets almost hits London and Dean pulls her down to the floor in time. The bullet punctures the elevator's wallpaper instead.

"This is so fucked up!" London screams over the gunfire as she and Dean fall to the ground, hands over their heads as protection. She reaches forward and grabs Dean's collar, pulling them closer to each other. She says tightly, "I'm not gonna die as fucking _London_. My name is Bela Talbot."

"You're not gonna die!" Dean disputes though he finds that he's been committing names to his memory since this morning. He grips her arm and hauls both of them back up onto their feet and lifts his rifle.

Castiel and Dean both manage to hit her again and she evades into a room. Dorothy and Crowley hurry into the room, only to discover that it's empty now. Dorothy holds up a hand, demanding silence, and realises, "She's in the vents."

"Find the rest now!" Dean orders and they take off running, trying to regroup with Sam and Santiago.

"You're Angeles's brother?" Sam asks, walking the hallways with Santiago.

He gives him a lazy grin, "Yep. Name's Gabriel. I don't really care about the city name thing. I joined late so what's the point?"

"I'm Sam," Sam returns. They cross over to the next foyer and a muffled rattling sound from a room alerts them. Sam kicks the door open and steps in, rifle raised and Gabriel next to him. Nobody in sight. Sam lowers his rifle slightly, disappointed at the dead end, and they walk out, securing the door.

Suddenly, the whole group is there (except for Dallas, Paris and Salem) and Dean informs them, "Abaddon's in the vents, we don't know where she is."

"We just heard her in that room," Gabriel says, pointing to the one they just secured. Dean nods and says, "Pair off, go to the unchecked rooms. Fire a shot if you find her." They go back into their original pairs, resuming their search, ears tuned to any sounds above their heads.

Dean and Castiel enter the office of Metatron Scribe, an employee at the bank, and close the door behind them so Abaddon can't sneak in from there. Castiel points to the bathroom and Dean nods, watching him carefully go in. Dean turns away and checks the large cabinet before the sound of boots makes him turn around. Abaddon holds a revolver to Castiel's wound, pressing just enough for him to hiss in pain and drop his rifle. Abaddon taunts, "Looks like you're not in Kansas anymore."

"Hey, relax, okay?" Dean says, raising his hands and letting his rifle fall back onto his chest. "Let him go. Come on, he's injured."

"You like to keep your word, don't you? Letting Jack Kline go just like that when they asked?" Abaddon asks, twisting Castiel's arm painfully behind his back and putting more stress on his injury. "I keep my word too. And I distinctly remember promising your dear Los Angeles that I would kill him once I was free. And now... There are no strings on me." Her mocking smile fades into a stone-cold expression. "Get out of the room and call all your friends here. Even the ones with the hostages."

 _She doesn't know about the tunnel_ , Dean realises, and he wishes there was a way to contact Dallas to coordinate an attack. He says, "Okay, okay. Don't hurt him." Abaddon's face splits into a menacing grin, and he warns, "I need to fire a shot to call them here."

"Fire it," Abaddon allows. "But if you try anything, I'll put more than one hole in your precious Angel."

Dean aims his revolver at the ceiling and shoots, and as he hears the other robber's boots get closer, he distantly wonders why the police haven't stormed the bank yet. Rapid gunfire and, though he couldn't hear it, Dean assumes the hostages would have been screaming. No proof of life and their landline is down. They had every reason to rush them in the bank. Why haven't they?

They arrive and when they see Dean step out of the room, arms raised, gun back in his holster, their faces fall even further. Abaddon uses her gun to gesture at the door and Dean reluctantly closes it when Castiel nods at him.

"Aren't they supposed to storm the bank if there's gunfire?" Dean asks Sam quietly, feeling the beginnings of an impending freakout the longer Abaddon has Castiel in that room, out of their sight.

"The new inspector must have let it slide," Sam replies, looking just as alarmed. "Is he okay?"

"For now," Dean says. He asks loudly so she can hear him through the door, "What do you want, Abaddon?"

"I want out of this bank," she answers. "I don't give a fuck about the governor or the hostages. I want out."

Crowley bargains, "We'll open the doors for you and you can walk free. Just give us Angeles."

Abaddon replies, "I have conditions." Dean tells her to name it and she starts, "First of all, I want to know you're all there. Say your names. Real name, city name, I don't care." They each say their names -- apparently, the fear of death at Abaddon's hands outshines their want to stay anonymous, because every single one of them says their real name, forgetting the cities, even Dean himself. Abaddon continues, clearly pleased, "Second, weapons down. And Dean opens the door for me."

They grudgingly put down their rifles and those holding pistols put them back in holsters. Once all armaments are down, Dean knocks on the door once before opening it. Abaddon steps out, guiding Castiel forward. He already looks a little sickly, the blood soaking through and making the red fabric a darker shade. Gun still against his temple, Abaddon walks out into the foyer and they all follow her slowly, arms raised.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean asks. Castiel nods weakly, his heavy breath audible even with the distance between them.

"Alright, we did what you asked. Let him go," Gabriel says.

Abaddon smirks, and Dean thinks she may actually be a fucking maniac. "We're not even at the main hall. You're supposed to open the doors for me, remember?"

"For fuck's sake," Bela sighs, distressed. "He's bleeding through his clothes!"

"Do I look like I care? You're criminals," Abaddon sneers, dragging Cas along roughly and causing him to groan. Anael looks around, likely trying to find some way to fool Abaddon, but she catches her and fires a warning shot near her foot. "Eyes here, Paris." Charlie looks afraid like she's going to pass out any moment, and she's so painfully young that Dean fears for every single Dalí.

They follow her to the lobby where the door is and Charlie says, "I have to open the door manually."

"It's okay, I'll manage. Thank you, sweetie," Abaddon says, falsely kind. "I do keep my word. I'll set your Angel free." She releases her hold on Cas and he stumbles forward. Dean catches him in his arms and holds him up, bringing him back to the rest.

"Cas, stay with me," Dean says quietly, patting his cheek as Cas drifts in and out of consciousness. The blood stains Dean's hands where he touches Cas's clothes.

Abaddon goes to the door's controls and looks over the Dalís, a proud look on her face like her kid just graduated school. "Look at you all. So full of hate. I spared your friend!" Unconvinced, their hands all edge to their guns, and Abaddon adds, "But I did promise death on two of you." She raises her gun before anyone else can.

_Bang._

Bela's legs give way and she collapses on the linoleum floor.

Instantly, everyone starts screaming and firing at Abaddon and she gets shot by someone, struggling to get the hell out of the lobby. Dean hands Cas off to Sam and he and Meg take off after Abaddon into an office. Meg fires relentlessly and Dean throws a grenade, watching it roll into the room after her.

"Meg, get down!" Dean shouts, pulling on Meg's arm to get them both to drop to the ground as the grenade detonates behind him. All logic went out of the window, no voice in his mind telling him that if he kills Abaddon, they're done for. There is only one voice telling him that she's killed two of his family, so fuck whatever happens to her.

When he's sure that Abaddon will be held off for now -- if the grenade didn't kill her -- Dean and Meg run back to the main hall and see Anael and Crowley kneeling next to Bela's body, the rest standing aside with defeated stares. Meg walks towards her body, slow and disbelieving, and Sam asks Dean quietly, "What happened to Abaddon?"

"I threw a grenade at her, didn't check if she got hit or not," Dean answers, walking closer to Bela, Anael and Crowley.

"Dead on impact," Crowley says, standing and turning away to look for something to cover her body with, and Meg takes his place by Bela's side, devastated. They were pretty close the entire time they knew each other, clicking like the safety of a gun.

But it still came as a surprise to everyone when Meg starts to cry, and Bela's death ached in all their chests.

**Tuesday, 7:35 PM**   
**105 hours**   
**34,400 kg**   
**$1.45 billion**

Since she's most likely badly injured by the grenade, Dean sends Sam, Gabriel, Crowley, Dorothy and Anael to look for and apprehend her. Dean brings Cas back to the office to tend to his damaged stitches. He can't really stitch them back -- no experience -- and Cas wasn't that excited about going through that without anaesthetic, so they agreed to some tightly applied gauze and bandages, with short intervals for changing.

Dean and Meg moved Bela to another crate like Balthazar's but neither could bear to look at her the entire time.

Dean cleans Cas's blood up, careful around the actual wound itself, and says, "They're gonna find her."

"Yeah," Cas says absently. "That's two dead."

"No more, okay? I'm gonna get the rest of us out," Dean promises. This time, he knows he can't fail. "I have a plan. We'll be leaving tomorrow."

"But we need Windom to prepare the escape truck. Our phone's cut," Cas points out, confused and weary by the night's events and his injuries.

Dean responds, "I know. Adam and I made a plan in case of that. We'll do it tomorrow, give them the funerals they should get, and get the hell out of dodge. I'm not gonna lose anyone else."

Cas presses his lips together and eventually nods. "Alright." Dean presses on the wound wrongly and Cas hisses. Dean quickly pulls his hand back and tries again, gentler.

"Is that better?"

"Yes," Cas answers. After a moment, he asks, "Did you let Meg change the notes to 100s?"

"She loved Bela, man. I don't know in what way, but Bela wanted to hit two billion before we left the bank. Meg really wants to see that through," Dean says, drying off the water and preparing the gauze. Meg asked Dean if she could take over Bela's duty managing money so she could fulfil Bela's one wish for the heist and Dean approved. "She'll probably threaten Chuck into telling her how to switch to 100s."

Cas hums quietly at that, nothing more to say. Dean applies the gauze on and stands to wrap the bandage around it. Cas asks, voice broken, "What did we even do? All we did was print paper and melt some gold. We didn't even hurt anyone."

Dean didn't even know how to answer, because that was just the way the police worked. They don't care about what's the destination, they just cared who was in the way, and it broke his heart that they were it.

It was just paper and a little bit of gold.


	6. DAY SIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning:  
> Usage of guns  
> Mentions of human trafficking (clearing false allegations)  
> Funeral  
> Death

**1 year and 1 month ago**

The jewel thief whose biggest claim to fame is stealing at least four hundred diamonds from Champs-Élysées in Paris. Dark hair, almost black, and blue eyes that stood out against it. A straight nose, stone face, his name blotted out in the data Dean had gotten an inside man to leak him. He didn't want to know his name, he just needed him to join. He'd been monitoring police radio for weeks, waiting and waiting until he finally heard it -- an armed robbery at a Zales outlet.

Dean makes it in time to serve as his getaway driver.

The thief frowns at him, the satchel strap falling off his shoulder. "Who the hell are you?"

"Your getaway. Hurry up, the police are almost here," Dean says, hoping he'll be willing to. The thief mentally debates in his mind before finally deciding that one man is easier to escape from compared to multiple armed cops in a police car, so he gets in and Dean steps on it.

He drives until the sirens are no longer in earshot and they end up in a parking lot, out of sight. He keeps the lights off so they won't draw attention from any people passing by to their own cars and turns to the thief, about to talk, until he sees a revolver being pressed against his body.

"Where's your gun?" the thief asks, staring with such an intensity that it almost seemed inhuman.

Dean's hands instantly go up and he assures, "I'm unarmed. You can check. I don't even have one in the glovebox. I just wanted to talk to you." The thief narrows his eyes and cocks his head, wary, before checking the compartments in the car -- no guns or recorders.

"What do you want from me? Because if you want a cut of my spoils for helping me, I'm only willing to give you ten diamonds," he says.

"I don't want your diamonds, you can keep them. I want your help with a heist I've planned," Dean clarifies. At his silence, Dean elaborates, "It's at the Bank of America. We're getting bills and gold."

"You're insane," the thief mutters. "Bills are easy but I know about the security measures for the gold. There's a water system, pumps 7,500 litres per minute when you touch the vault. It'll fill up in sixteen, you'll never get the gold out in time. It's too risky."

"I know, and I have a way to take care of that. We can get the gold out without even opening the vault door," Dean says. That grabs the thief's attention and he continues to convince him, "You'll get out with a few thousand kilograms of gold and hundreds of thousands in bills if you join me. I promise you won't get caught. Are you in?"

The thief stares at him, contemplating. "Is anyone else involved?"

"You're the first one I'm asking, but I have a bunch of other people to get to," Dean answers. "If they all agree, it should be about nine of us, including me and you."

He furrows his eyebrows, perplexed. "How do you expect to get nine people out of the bank with all that gold and money? The bank will be surrounded. APBs will be out."

"In case you don't join me, I can't say too much, but this isn't an hour's operation. We're gonna stay in the bank for a few days and the police will let us stay because the public won't be against us," Dean says, and it seems like the final step in convincing the thief. It sounded too interesting -- the only heist in which they don't try to pull it off as quickly as possible... A heist where they want to take as much time as they can. "So, you in?"

Eventually, he agrees. "Alright, I assume you know my name so I'd like to know yours if we're going to be working together."

"I don't. I wanted to limit how much we would know about each other. In case we get caught, we'd never be able to even give a name. Facial descriptions are kind of unreliable, there's gonna be millions of people who match our descriptions and even with specific details, there are at least seven people in the whole world who look just like you. Impossible to catch us without the names," Dean replies. He writes an address out on a post-it -- a house in a remote area he rented out for a year so they could study for the heist and practice shooting, operations and so on in peace. He hands it to the thief and says, "Meet me at this address in two weeks on Thursday noon."

The thief nods, putting the note in his pocket and gets out of the car, nodding once in farewell as he walks off with his loot. Dean watches him go from the car until he's long out of sight and it's then that he realises that the thief left him something on the passenger seat.

Ten cut diamonds, pristine and clear.

**Wednesday, 10:40 AM**   
**120 hours**   
**40,400 kg**   
**$1.96 billion**

Since they were injured, Dean assigned Sam and Cas to watch the hostages while Dean tried to get the phone line up again. Dallas went to work on the tunnel and Gabriel and Dorothy assisted him after dealing with Abaddon.

By the time morning comes around, Meg informs Dean that they are almost at the two-billion-dollar mark. Crowley passed forty thousand kilograms a while ago. Abaddon is tied to a chair with handcuffs, waiting for him in an office surrounded by five rifles. Cas comes with him as second-in-command to discuss anything, leaving Sam to guard the hostages with Charlie instead. Meg joins them.

Dean, Cas and Meg walk into the office and Dean shuts the door behind, feeling a surge of rage just looking at her, though it was alleviated by the sight of how damaged she looked. Obviously, the grenade didn't hit her or she'd be dead, even with her protective gear. It blew up near her, injuring her enough for them to apprehend her.

"Good morning," Dean greets, pulling her up by her hair so she would look at him instead of the floor. Blood is still trickling from her mouth and nose -- Dean suspects one of the robbers there took their anger out on her before he arrived. He couldn't complain -- he wanted so badly to do the same. It was the least she deserved after what she did to Balthazar and Bela.

"If you want to kill me," Abaddon spat. "Then do it, bastard."

"Believe me, I want to. All of us would," Dean replies honestly. "But I need you alive for now."

Cas looks at him, tilting his head, "Your escape plan?"

"Yep," Dean nods, releasing Abaddon's head. "We're gonna ask for one reporter and one cameraman, and we're gonna do an exclusive interview. One hour at most, and one spokesperson. Berlin, would you do it?"

Crowley raises his eyebrows. "Why not you? You're the leader."

"You and Vegas are the only ones who have revealed identities. It's either you or her and frankly, I think you know how to win over an audience better," Dean explains. He turns to Meg and says, "No offence."

"Eh, you're not wrong," Meg mutters.

"Alright, I'll do it," Crowley agrees. "But what do you want me to do during this interview? If it even happens."

"It will happen. After yesterday, every news outlet will want to get the chance to interview us. This is gonna do _everything_ for us. You can take it wherever you think it should when you're in front of the camera, but I want these things done," Dean says. Crowley listens as he lists, "One, you clear your name about that trafficking bullshit the colonel pinned on you. Two, tell everyone that the police allowed and encouraged the murder of two of ours. Three, when you send the reporter team out, you're going to release the four other guards and four random hostages. We'll leave the kids out for after, I'm not letting them carry caskets."

Charlie's eyes widen and she asks, "Are you sending the caskets out with the ones we're letting go?"

"Just look outside. There are hundreds of people outside the bank watching, waiting to see what happens," Dean points out, motioning to the window. After all the shots fired yesterday being broadcasted across news channels, a lot of people arrived to watch it unfold themselves. "They know we didn't steal a cent from them, and that we didn't hurt a single hostage. If there is any chance we get to give them the funeral they deserve, it's in front of every person who knows the justice system has failed them."

Sam nods, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. "I don't know how much decency the new team would have for them, but we could threaten the release of state secrets in exchange for their bodies being taken to the morgue and handled properly. Between that and all those people watching, they should be in good hands."

"Then it's settled. Athens and Paris, find a state secret to release. Something not too big, but big enough to know that we're not fucking around and will reveal more if they don't handle our friends with care," Dean says. Dorothy and Anael nod, quickly going down to the foundry where gold production is so they can start going through the state secrets.

"And what about Abaddon?" Cas asks, looking back at her. Her head is bowed, blood dripping onto her lap. She's not even trying to wrestle her way out of the handcuffs, the grenade must have hurt her bad enough.

Dean nods once in Meg's direction and she walks over to Abaddon, roughly lifting her head up from behind so she will look at Dean again. She presses a gun against her temple and Dean says, "Abaddon will tell the public during the interview about what she did and name the people who gave her the go-ahead to kill Balthazar and Bela."

"You can't get me to do a thing," Abaddon smiles, fucking _smiles_ and Dean's patience runs flat.

"Vegas, you have one hour to get her to cooperate. Have fun," Dean says simply, leaving the office with the rest and leaving Meg alone with Abaddon.

Dean and Cas take over guard duty and Dean sends Sam and Charlie to begin moving the printed rolls of money to the tunnel in preparation for their escape. The tunnel is pretty far along by now but it would be completed in significantly fewer hours if Adam was digging from the other side. Dean couldn't fix the phone, the cords too damaged by Abaddon to be repairable (at least, with the tools they had on hand) and Dean is unbelievably thankful that he had prepared for this situation with Adam beforehand.

He's still waiting on Meg's hour with Abaddon to be up, pacing the main hall with the hostages as Cas sits on the steps, hand brushing his bandages through his coveralls. Amelia asks, looking a bit hesitant to say anything, "Angeles, is your wound doing okay? Infected, still hurting?"

"I'm alright. Thank you, Amelia," Cas says sincerely. "I had something I wanted to give you for your troubles." He stands and walks over to her, pulling out a stack of dollar bills -- Dean had ordered Sam and Charlie to pack them in stacks of one million, so he assumes that one is no different. "Have this."

The other hostages stared, wide-eyed like it's some kind of trick, and Amelia falters, "I can't accept this."

"I insist," Cas replies, gently taking her hands and putting the stack between her palms. "Thank you for saving my life."

Amelia finally accepts the money and Cas smiles as best as he can -- Dean doesn't really know why he rarely smiles. He looks good. Like an angel, almost. Maybe that's how he gets away with so many robberies. If Dean was getting robbed by someone like Cas, he'd probably give him everything.

"That's nice," Dean murmurs to him when Cas walks back towards him. "Are you always this generous?"

"I am letting you move to Palermo with me, aren't I?" Cas returns, a playful smile on his lips. Dean can't help but grin; even with everything shitty, they were leaving in a matter of hours and Cas actually loves him which is pretty unbelievable.

Meg shows up ten minutes later, gloves on her hands and a smirk on her face. "I cracked her."

Naomi doesn't like Sam Winchester and she hasn't even met the man. She just knows that he breaks easy and deputy inspector Jody Mills thinks they have him hostage but she and Ketch know better. He's been turned by the Dalís, otherwise, they would have gotten a call from Kansas saying that they have Sam in their hold. He's with them willingly, they wouldn't risk them thinking they've committed the murder of an officer. Either he was dead or he joined them, but they've had a perfect record of not killing any hostages yet so why start now?

Yesterday, she and Ketch stopped SWAT for storming the bank when rapid gunfire started going off, so loud and avid that even Colonel Zachariah Adler had been concerned. Knowing it was just Abaddon annihilating the robbers.

Logic says she should probably care about them dying. Her job says she doesn't. She's a cop, not a babysitter. Maybe she's heartless but who in this line of work has a heart? Sam had one and now he's a criminal.

But the crowd gathered to watch is at unease, wanting to know the status of the Dalí-faced thieves who aren't stealing from them. Kansas called to request a two-person media team, one reporter and one cameraperson, for an interview.

"Send them," Naomi permits, curious to see what the hell they want an interview for. They send in a reporter, Missouri Moseley, and her cameraman Dede, much to the disappointment of the tens of other reporters outside the bank.

Crowley stands in the lobby as the doors open with Sam, Dorothy, Anael and Dean behind him, though only he had his mask off, strapped around his right arm. The doors open and a female reporter and cameraman walk in.

She starts, holding out a clip-on microphone, "You need to put this on so we can hear you speak easier." Crowley nods, taking it and securing it onto his collar. Once it's done and Dede confirms that it has been activated, she introduces, "My name is Missouri and this is Dede. What do I address you as?"

"My name, of course, since the police leaked it. You can call me Crowley," he says.

"Are you the leader?" Missouri questions.

"No, my alias is Berlin. Kansas is the leader," Crowley says, looking towards Dean. "That's Kansas. But as I am one of the two with my identity public, I have elected to be the spokesperson today."

Missouri nods and starts her second question, "Why are you robbing the Bank of America?"

"Because this society lives only to serve the rich, and we're tired of being fed scraps," Crowley answers, voice leaving no room for lack of confidence. "Aren't you tired of the wealthy getting wealthier and the poor staying as such? Have you never wondered where the money goes? This is just a liquidity injection, going to people who need the money more." The statement had come from Dean himself and Crowley thought it was a good enough answer to recycle.

"The police say you're printing your own notes. As the bank has eight million in the vaults, why did you go through the trouble of printing your own?" Missouri asks. "It's a very unique way of robbing."

"We're not here to hurt the financial situations of the citizens... That would defeat the purpose of what we wanted to do for ourselves," Crowley explains. "So we left their money alone and borrowed the bank's machines to print our own. This way, nobody is affected. All we're doing here is printing paper." Crowley still doesn't say a word on if they touched the gold reserves as Dean wanted to keep it that way.

"You've gained some form of trust from the public with that move," Missouri comments.

Crowley smiles and holds out a hand to gesture to the main hall, saying, "That's a nice sentiment. Now, come with me. I'm sure you'll want to check on the hostages after yesterday's racket." Missouri and Dede follow closely as Crowley leads them to the main hall, showing all the remaining hostages guarded by Charlie. Dean and Castiel had moved the remaining four guards and Frank to the main hall, making Abaddon the only hostage kept somewhere else. Dede films the hostages, standing in neat lines and looking fine for their situation.

Missouri asks one of the hostages -- a man named Andrew Gallagher -- if the conditions have been fine. He tells her that he can't complain; three meals a day, more if they want, medication for the ones who needed it, and the robbers mostly left them alone. Missouri asks one of the students, Kaia Nieves, what she thought about the Jack Kline situation.

"I'm glad he's out, I really am. Jack's a nice guy, but it doesn't sit well with me that they made that decision," Kaia answers honestly.

After the short session with the hostages, Crowley moves them up to the office where Abaddon is being watched by Meg and Castiel. Meg's mask is pushed up into her hair and Castiel's covers his face. Abaddon has been cleaned up by now by Dean's orders. She looks significantly less bloody, the only evidence of Meg's beating being the beginnings of a bruise on her cheek and an eye that's gone red where it should be white. Dorothy and Anael stay outside the office and Sam and Dean follow Crowley in.

"This is Abaddon Knight, the leader of governor Frank Devereaux's security team," Crowley explains and Abaddon looks up indignantly. "Formerly of the Black Ops."

Meg leans down so her lips are next to Abaddon's ear and, quietly, says out of earshot of Missouri and Dede, "Talk or I'll put a bullet in your spine."

Abaddon glares at her but complies, saying, "I am guilty of the murders of two of the robbers, aliases Rome and London." Despite the mask over his face, Dean's pointed look somehow translates in the Dalí mask's raised eyebrows and wide eyes. Abaddon adds, "Real names Balthazar Freely and Bela Talbot, respectively."

Missouri and Dede exchange shocked looks and Missouri asks, raising her own handheld microphone to Abaddon's face, "Why did you kill them?"

"Because I wanted to," Abaddon says bitingly. "And I was given the green light by two officers."

"Name them," Castiel says, voice cutting and made lower with hate.

"Inspector Naomi Intel, and a British man that I don't know," Abaddon mutters into the microphone before leaning back into her chair, her wrists still bound by her handcuffs. "I gave them both a bullet to their heads."

Missouri is rendered speechless by Abaddon's confession and the camera shakes in Dede's arms. Crowley decides that it's time to move her to the final part of the interview -- the caskets. This time, only Crowley, Dean, Sam, Missouri and Dede enter. Castiel remains outside while Dorothy and Meg stayed behind to watch Abaddon. The two wooden makeshift caskets rested on the desks, covered with names painted on the side.

Crowley gives a disclaimer, "In view of possible minor audiences of this interview, and respect for our fallen friends, we won't be opening them."

Dede records the boxes to show the world -- 'ROME | BALTHAZAR FREELY' and 'LONDON | BELA TALBOT' labelled on the respective boxes -- before bringing the camera back up to direct it at Crowley. Dean nods once, subtly, and Crowley begins.

"Have you seen a dead body before?" he asks. Missouri shakes her head no, and he nods once. "So this is your first time. It's the first time for most of us as well. We've successfully kept them out of sight of the hostages and haven't told them about their demise, but I'm sure they've suspected it by now. Balthazar Freely was shot dead during the hostage escape on Sunday night. Bela Talbot was shot dead yesterday evening. Abaddon captured Angeles to condition her way out of the bank. We were going to release her and she shot Talbot."

He pauses, strangely finding it difficult to hold it together. He'd never been so vulnerable in his life.

Crowley decides to give himself a break and calls Castiel from the door, "Angeles, come in and show your bandages." Castiel comes in and unzips his coveralls, pulling down one side to show the bandages crossing his shoulder and chest, crimson dotting through the cloth. He can see Dean tense up at the sight of it, probably thinking about how he has to change the bandages once the reporter team leaves.

Dede films it and Missouri asks, holding the microphone up to Castiel, "Did Abaddon shoot you?"

"The police shot me when we were getting our associates into the bank to assist us. We had just lost Balthazar and needed help, you may have seen the three motorcycles riding into the bank. I got shot covering them," Castiel answers, zipping the coveralls back up. "My associates brought me back in and asked for surgeons, the same as Chuck got, but were declined any medical assistance. Thankfully, a hostage and Athens had experience and Inspector Winchester came in to give us an IFAK kit. I would have died if it weren't for them."

Missouri nods, looking slightly distressed at the idea that the police had refused help. Sure, they were committing a crime, but they weren't hurting anyone. There had been no reason to withhold medical aid. She turns back to Crowley and asks, "Speaking about the police, what do you have to say about the allegations against you about the trafficking charges?"

"Completely false," Crowley instantly denies. "Anyone who knows me knows that I am just a thief and nothing else. I would never deal in another living being. Do you have any idea how disparaging it is to be accused of something so offensive when it's not true? I have never been more repulsed. I am just a thief! My morals may be corrupt but I would never do something so sickening." He draws in a deep breath and says in a calmer voice, "I request an investigation into whether the case files were related, between my record and the trafficking case they connected to me. It's likely an unsolved case. I may not be innocent, but I am not evil."

Missouri nods along, seemingly understanding and gaining a new perspective with the interview. Dean tilts his head towards the doorway and Crowley says, "It's time to see you out. But we have a request for you."

"What do you want us to do?" Missouri asks, exchanging a curious look with Dede.

"Ensure our friends get the funeral they deserve," Crowley says.

Anael and Gabriel bring up the four security guards and four hostages, and each quartet picks up one casket each. Missouri and Dede follow them to the door where Charlie opens it. Crowley goes out first, saying into the camera knowing that the police are watching the broadcast from their base, "I demand that their bodies be handled properly. For them to be brought to a morgue and treated with respect."

He says a string of five words -- meaningless to the general public, but crumbling for those who know the full context of the words. The most subtle state secret Charlie dug up. He follows up by threatening that if he finds out they did not adhere to their demands, they will release something more specific, and then he says they are releasing eight hostages before stepping aside to make way.

The two caskets are walked out and everyone watching from outside the bank fall silent as they go.

Adam had grown fond of all the robbers during the one year Dean assembled them to prepare for the heist. So when he wasn't there to warn Balthazar about Abaddon's release and got visuals cut out when Bela died, he'd been distraught. He never got to say goodbye.

He'd kept the news on since the cameras cut out and when the shootout was broadcasted, his heart seized in his chest. He'd waited all night for more information but the public had been left in the dark. Until this afternoon, when a reporter and cameraman were requested for an interview.

Before the heist, Dean and Adam had planned for if their communication ever got cut -- Dean would issue the release of four hostages to signal that they were planning to leave that day. He thought that maybe the interview would be it. He was glad to see that Angeles is fine, but the sight of the two crates made him feel sick.

He cried when they were walked out, their names big on the sides of the caskets.

But now, he's even more driven to get the rest out with no more casualties. They'd sent out eight hostages to carry the caskets, so he didn't know if it meant they wanted to leave. He would have to wait a little longer to see if Dean releases another four. Until then, he watches the news to monitor the bank.

Fifteen minutes after the interview, a different news reporter says that Crowley is not connected at all to the trafficking case, proving that it was false allegations to defame the robbers, and demands for the officer who orchestrated the leak to be named and fired.

Twenty-five minutes after the interview, colonel Zachariah Adler's termination is announced on every news station.

Thirty minutes after the interview, four more hostages get released, all minors.

Adam picks up a hammer and starts working on the tunnel from his side of it, desperate to get them out.

**Wednesday, 3:35 PM**   
**124 hours**   
**42,000 kg**   
**$2.10 billion**

Ketch demands, "We should hit them now, with everything we've got."

"Let's not be too hasty. We're getting crucified right now by everyone outside this tent," Naomi mutters, massaging her temples. "Letting go of Adler was easy, but that bitch Abaddon just dropped my name and let's be real, it's obvious that the British man is you. And those fucking caskets, someone just hurry up and get them to the morgue before they release more state secrets." Donna Hanscum runs out to get on it.

Victor walks into the tent and notifies them, "The public is demanding that the two of you be investigated and for Abaddon to be convicted as a spree killer upon her release." Naomi grits her teeth and tries to think.

"Alright. Henriksen, go and deal with those rioters outside. Get them the hell out of here," Naomi orders. "I don't care if you do it by force. I want them out." Victor nods and leaves promptly.

Ketch asks, "Are we going to storm the bank?"

"We'll hold off on that. I want to see if they try anything else," Naomi declines. "They're releasing hostages and I want to know why."

Dean assigns Sam and Charlie to move the packed rolls of money to the vaults for Anael and Dorothy to assemble. Gabriel and Benny work on the tunnel. Benny told him that they could hear Adam digging from his side of the tunnel which means they're close to getting through. Meg continues with the production of dollar bills -- the previous night Chuck had agreed to help her change the fifty dollar bills to hundreds instead, and they upped the production rate by two million per hour. They sailed over two billion during the interview. Crowley is down in the foundry trying to speed up gold melting with Garth and Cole.

Cas watches the remaining hostages and releases four of them every half an hour while Dean ensures everything is running smoothly on all ends. He mostly manages the hostages' release as well. He wanted to get all the minors out as soon as possible, and afterwards, the ones with medical issues, followed by hostages decided by everyone else. It's fair that way.

After releasing the last two students and two adults -- Kevin Tran, Channing Ngo, Bess Myers and Mark Cain -- Dean shuts the doors again and asks Cas quietly, "Do you need to change your bandages?"

"No, I'm fine," Cas reassures, running a hand over the injured shoulder. "Do you think the cops will handle them right?"

"They don't have a choice. We have state secrets," Dean replies.

Cas nods, deciding to trust Dean in that, and asks, "What's Lebanon going to do after this is over? He can't go back to his old life."

"Maybe he'll come with us," Dean shrugs, sitting down next to Cas on the steps. The hostages couldn't care less about their conversation since they're releasing them now, so they could talk freely but they still kept their voices low and to each other. "I haven't met his girlfriend yet but who doesn't like being whisked away to some European country like Italy?"

"It is romantic, I suppose," Cas agrees.

"We're getting out," Dean says, taking Cas's hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Cas smiles, fleeting but priceless. "We'll split the loot, and then... Palermo doesn't sound so far away, does it?"

Cas answers, thoughtful, "I've come to think that perhaps Palermo is simply wherever we both are."

Dean pauses before he breaks into a wide grin, nudging Cas's unhurt shoulder with his own, "Look at you, Mr Romantic."

"Shut up or I won't take you with me to Italy," Cas scolds, but a warm smile spreads across his face like a sunset painting gold and lilac across a melancholic blue.

**Wednesday, 5:52 PM**   
**126 hours**   
**42,800 kg**   
**$2.17 billion**

When it hit 5:40 PM, Adam and Benny saw each other through a hole in the dirt and broke the rest of the wall down, pulling each other into a hug of relief. Cas insisted that he wanted to help begin to move the loot through the tunnels where Adam, Dorothy and Gabriel were transferring them to the truck to prepare for their getaway. Cas and Dean brought the gold and rolls of money through the tunnels to them, while Meg and Charlie moved the last of the packed dollar bills down. Crowley, Garth and Cole brought the bags of gold grains to the escape tunnel and helped move them through. 

Dean planned to release all the remaining hostages at once the loot was all on the other side and ordered Anael to await his instructions as she continued to release them every half hour.

At 5:52 PM, the ground beneath them shook and they realised they were finally being stormed. Crowley had insisted beforehand that they all wear bulletproof vests just in case, and it was a good thing he did. Anael runs in and tells Dean that she released all the hostages.

"Move, move, move!" Dean shouts, bringing the last rolls of money and gold to the opening of the hole so the Dalís in the tunnel can access them easier and faster. "Berlin, Dallas, with me! We're holding them off!"

Cas climbs out of the tunnel and grabs Dean's sleeve before he can run out, pulling him back and kisses him in a way so closely acquainted with bittersweet goodbyes. He pulls away slightly, mumbling against his lips, "Don't be a hero. We still have to go to Italy."

"How can I forget about Palermo?" Dean jokes with an easy smile on his face, pressing one final quick kiss to Cas before he runs out with Crowley and Benny. They weren't going to run directly at the SWAT team, mainly staying near the vault in case they come close. The paper printing machines were still running despite how Dean ordered Meg to stop cutting up the notes. He hoped that if they got stormed, they would check there first since all the noise was coming from there.

They stay in the area, ears pricked for any audible sign that they were close to finding them in the safes. They were likely checking the fake escape that got abandoned first anyway.

A loud gunshot ringing through the hallway gets them on high alert and their masks come down over their faces, rifles raised. Two SWAT team members find them and start firing and the three quickly duck behind shelves, firing from where they're hiding. Benny manages to graze the leg of one of them and Dean shouts, "Berlin, go check if they're done! Don't come back if they are!" Crowley nods and Dean adds, "Dallas, cover him in three, two, one!"

Dean and Benny stand, firing at the approaching SWAT members as Crowley dashes out of the area and back to the safes. Once he's gone, they duck behind a tall crate and continue shooting. When Crowley doesn't return after three minutes, Dean shouts, "Go back and get out of here! I'll cover you!"

Benny frowns, yelling back, "What about you?"

"Right behind you, buddy!" Dean answers, leaning forward to fire before getting back behind the crate.

"There are ten SWAT guys out there, nobody can cover that many!" Benny protests, reluctant to leave.

Dean gives him a meaningful look for a split second before turning back to shoot at the SWAT team. He shouts over the gunfire, "Then when you see Angeles again, tell him I love him!"

He leans forward again to start shooting until Benny pulls him back, yelling, "You're fucking crazy! I'm not getting out of here without you! We run in three!" Benny counts down and they both make a run for it, trying their best to dodge gunshots as they haul ass back into the hallways. They race the SWAT team to the tunnels and Benny turns to shoot at them to hold them off.

Dean slows down at the safe door and shouts, "Benny, we gotta go!"

Benny gives him a grin over his shoulder, replying, "It's been good to know you, brother. The end of the line's always been here for me."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean shouts, trying to get back to Benny's side. "Benny, what the fuck? Come on!"

Crowley grabs him from behind, telling him that they don't have time and need to blow up the tunnel. Dean tries to fight against it but when he sees Benny go down, he knows he has to go. The tunnel blows up behind him and Crowley, stopping the SWAT team from going through, and Dean's heart hurts as he cries into Cas's arms when he sees him on the other side.

"Where's Benny?" Charlie asks, eyes wide.

Crowley just mutters, "We need to go."

Even with their grief, they knew they had to move or Benny's sacrifice was for nothing. They quickly change into their disguises -- not all of them can be in the escape truck just as a safety measure, and instead will be hiding in plain sight. Sam, Meg and Crowley get into the back of the truck with all the loot since they would get recognised and caught walking around, and Anael and Adam take the driver and passenger seats, driving off to meet up with the rest at the house Dean rented later in the day to split the loot.

Dorothy and Charlie are the next to leave, followed by Garth and Cole. Meg and Gabriel leave separately and Dean and Cas leave together, dressed as a couple on a date.

The police car's sirens wail loudly as it drives past them.

Later that night, after holding a funeral for all three dead friends, they started working on their final getaways -- the ones whose identities were never revealed simply took their cut and left, and those who were going to fly out to another country contacted black market pilots that Balthazar had secured for them before the heist. They took out Balthazar’s cut of it and Charlie promised to have it sent to his family. Sam told Dean that he had thought about it, and promised to see him again in Palermo if he can convince Jess to come with him.

Cas had booked a pilot with Balthazar and on the plane, they were voiceless with everything that had happened, only being able to hold each other and finally get to breathe.

Four hundred and eighty-two million dollars and nine thousand, five hundred and eleven kilograms of gold grains. Three friends lost, one brother found.

And that had all been in just one hundred and twenty-six hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked it, you should watch the original show. (Though this fic would have given a number of spoilers by now if you haven't...)  
> This is also part of a three-part series called The Dalís.


	7. We're Back

**DALÍ DIAMANTES**

Two years after getting away with the greatest heist in history, Dean and Castiel enjoy a life of domesticity and small-time crime in Palermo until Meg finds Crowley and Bela’s incomplete plans to seize the diamonds and gold reserves of the Diamonds Factory in the United Kingdom.

Put on your Dalí mask and pick a city. We’re back.

Welcome to the Diamonds Factory.

[ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048357/chapters/60665512)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Click the Dalí mask to go to the new fic, or you can find it on my profile: Dalí Diamantes.


End file.
